Of Lives Seldom Written
by Insert Coins To Begin
Summary: The chapters are long. Very long. Not too long, though. Read it, and I guarantee you will feel like a bad person for having enjoyed it or, at the very least, a bad person for having read it.
1. The Sword and the Stone

As Serge emerged from the tightly sealed room atop Fort Dragonia, fully clothed and looking much more like himself, all that could be heard were the exclamations of his comrades. "Serge!" they both cried in disbelief. True, they had mostly known the young man from Arni as a towering demi-human, formerly known on El Nido as the mysterious and unapproachable Lynx. What followed was a never-ending lesson in pain and futility, until finally the dragons had intervened, and with their guidance Serge sought out the Dragon Tear, the only thing left that could return his soul to its former vessel.

Now here he was, standing before two of the many friends he had procured along the way, a blonde man hailing from the mainland by the name of Norris, and the silver-haired shrine maiden known only as Steena, the person responsible for lending him the now shattered Dragon Tear. After the initial shock of seeing Serge whole once again, Steena looked down to the contents of Serge's left hand. Serge followed her eyes and caught sight of what remained of Guldove's treasure, now a shard and shadow of its former self.

He held it up to Steena with an apologetic look, hoping to garner some forgiveness from the woman whose most prized possession he had destroyed for his own benefit. She simply smiled, however, and said, "It is no surprise it shattered as it did. But you also carry with you the broken Dragon Tear of another world, and perhaps they together hold the secret to the undiscovered Chrono Cross. Yet I sense that you still have unfinished business...." Serge simply nodded his agreement.

"Not only must you retrieve the lost souls that followed you before you lost your way, but you feel an obligation to one in particular. A promise you made, and one you wish to keep. And I have a feeling it will lead us back to Guldove." Serge again solemnly nodded.

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"You will soon find your missing counterpart…"

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Silence reigned this day on the secluded island paradise of Guldove. Inside a small tavern on the island, a voluptuous blonde woman rested atop the counter where, on any other given day, she would be serving drinks. But today was a holy day for the demi-humans of the isle, and she rarely received any other customers, so she knew she'd have the whole day to herself.

It had been just over a week since Doc had released her with a bill of clean health. That panther and his friends had beaten her up pretty bad, and she was already tired from fending off those Porre goons when they'd arrived, but in the end they'd helped her. Then one of them told her the truth. The panther was Serge, the blue-haired boy that had come drifting into Guldove on the back of Korcha's boat alongside a blonde girl who'd been dressed scantily in red. Doc had had a hell of a time trying to get her healthy again after he'd found out she was suffering the effects of Hydra poison. She'd had to console him to no end, and his self-deprecation had begun to take its toll on her nerves. But…Serge?

She could barely believe it, and yet she readily accepted it, lending him her most prized possession: a small, broken sapphire stone.

If anything, Porre's troop dispatch had done her some good. It had been too long, she thought, since she'd had a good fight, and that one was nothing short of incredible. The thrill of staving off death by a mere hair's breadth had left her unable to stand for several days. Looking back, however, she realised more and more how impulsive she had been. How she could have been killed as a result of her own arrogance. Then again, she had nothing to stick around in this life for anyway. Except, perhaps, for just one thing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from the nearby docks. She hopped to her feet, wary that Porre may very well have returned. Rushing out the door, she shielded her eyes from the bright sun and stared in the direction of the docks. What she could barely make out were three figures tumbling about inside Korcha's small boat (having, until now, long since disappeared from Guldove with Korcha's Ma) in a vain attempt to bring the little sailboat alongside the docks and tie her up. One figure was suddenly thrown overboard amidst the confusion, and Orlha sacrificed the shield over her eyes in order to clutch at her stomach, which was now aching from her boisterous laughter.

As Orcha stood on the bottom of the sea, his various cooking accessories, not to mention his unusually large girth, keeping him on the bottom of the normally shallow harbour, he began to worry. He had not counted on high tide, or he might have been more careful. As he began to struggle in a vain attempt to reach the surface, mere inches above his head yet still so far away, a hand gloved in thick leather and bright steel thrust itself into the water, followed shortly by another. Soon, a steel buckler, attached to one of the arms below the elbow, began to sink its way into the water as the hands groped deeper.

Orcha quickly grabbed hold of his saviour, and was slowly but surely lifted to the surface, where he gasped in the air in gulps as his mouth reached the world above the salty brine beneath him. He looked up at his rescuer, a young man in dull bronze armour, his spiky blonde hair blowing into his bright blue eyes.

"ThankCHA, Glenn," Orcha managed. "I'd 'a' sunk for sure if CHA hadn't helped me."

"Think nothing of it, Orcha. You would undoubtedly have done the same for me." And so, with the help of Serge, who had somehow managed to tie the ship down astride the docks, Glenn pulled the cook from his near grave. The three disembarked from the boat and turned to each other in a huddle. Glenn and Orcha both turned to Serge. "So, Serge, what is it that you wished to do here?" asked Glenn. Serge reached into his pocket and pulled out half of a small blue sapphire stone, noticeably broken at some time in the past.

Serge looked up, past the other two, to the buildings of Guldove in the distance. Before them, all three could see a young woman, now cautiously approaching them. "Who is that?" Glenn asked, turning back to Serge. Serge simply flipped the stone in his hand over, revealing a small silver heart implanted firmly in the stone. The inscription was clear: 'Orlha'.

Orlha held up her hand again in another vain attempt to shield her eyes from the sun, but still she could only make out three silhouettes, all obviously men, one having obviously indulged in Squid Gut Pasta once too often. She approached cautiously, still fearing a repeat arrival of troops from Porre. She balled her other hand into a tight fist, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The three turned to face her, making it clear to her that she'd been spotted, yet none made any movement in her direction.

One, the fat one, looked almost familiar, the hat atop his head revealing he was some sort of chef. Another, the tallest of the three, appeared to almost shine in places. He gripped the hilt of a sword hanging around his waist with a free hand, yet he appeared to make no motion towards the one slung across his back, this blade's true shape hidden by the thick cloth wrapped around it. The third looked almost comical, with his pirate style bandana and his floppy, oversized boots. This one began to wave at her, and gradually she could make out the form of…

"Serge!" she cried, now running towards the trio. She stopped just short of crashing into Serge, halted by the object he held up to her. Her sapphire, still broken, dropped into her waiting hands. She smiled blissfully, her mind drifting to a far off time. Abruptly pulled back to reality by the sound of someone clearing their throat, she turned to her left, coming face to face with an armoured young man, obviously from the dragoons in Termina, who waited patiently as she gave him her full attention.

"Serge would like your help." Glenn stated, ever frank. "He knows he made a promise to you, and wished to keep it. Now he would like to know if you still feel that you can do the same for him. If not, we all accept that. But if you'll still help him, Serge would like to know." Orlha turned to Serge, who simply nodded, as if to verify everything Glenn had just said.

"Why of course, I'd be delighted to help any way I can. I mean, I already know what's going on, you told me once. I can't just sit back and let everything go to Hell without trying to stop it, can I?" Serge's expression quickly turned to one of confusion, and he slowly shrugged his shoulders. Orlha, too, had become puzzled by Serge's reaction, and both turned to Glenn, who again cleared his throat.

"Serge, I believe she was being rhetorical."

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That night the four had decided to bunk down in Guldove before moving on, Serge and company having arrived late in the day. Orcha had expressed a wish to stay for some time, and so Serge was more than happy to let him go about his personal business on the island for as long as need be. There were, however, some reports the next morning of hearing strange noises that night from the residential towers, almost like the clash of cookware, and Macha's easily recognisable screams. No one had ever dared approach Macha willingly when they had been forewarned that she was in a bad mood, so all on the island seemed to take the mysterious events in stride. There were, however, consequences to the noise.

With himself and Serge staying with Doc for the night, Glenn had awoken, strangely enough, moments before the aforementioned screams reverberated across the island. He certainly could not return to sleep now, and so resolved to prepare himself for the next day's journey ahead of time, seeing what shops around the island might be open at this time of night. Never being caught unprepared, Glenn left the hut fully suited and ready for battle, something his older brother had taught him to always do. He would often feel out of place without his armour anyway.

He had quickly realised upon joining the dragoons that, without proof of your membership, the populace was quick to suspicion whenever you tried to help them out. He never knew what caused such suspicions, and he had always assumed that helping others was a natural thing to do, like breathing. Yet whenever he was caught out of uniform, Glenn always seemed to cause harm instead of prevent it. Like when he had tried to help the young woman who ran the tavern in Termina…

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A group of merchants had just sailed into Termina's harbour with a shipment of Dragon's Glory for the town. Having already tapped into some of the shipment themselves, the merchants were loud and lewd. They quickly planted themselves inside the nearby tavern, delving further into the drink. Glenn could hear them from the street, taunting the poor tavern owner with catcalls, demanding that she speed up her already rushed service. The merchants were causing a ruckus, so Glenn entered in the hope that he might calm them down. He had not thought to bring anything with him other than the bare minimum of clothes. After all, what danger could be had when visiting your father's grave?

Glenn entered only to catch sight of one of the rowdy lot grabbing the owner by the arm as she leaned over to serve the next round of drinks. Glenn quickly grabbed the man, pulling him from his seat. The man, lost in a drunken stupor, was easily expelled from the tavern. Glenn had barely managed to yell over the other merchants' objections, telling them all to calm down and be more appreciative of the fine services found in Termina. They had jumped him, but he made short work of them. Had they not been so plastered, he might not have been so lucky.

By this time the owner of the bar was left alone in her own tavern. Having been knocked to the floor, she now sat speechless in a puddle of booze. Glenn quickly re-entered the tavern after casting the merchants out and rushed to the woman's aid, taking her arm and lifting her from the floor. Glenn began brushing the dirt from one of her sleeves as the tavern owner recomposed herself, only to find himself assaulted by a loud yell of "Idiot!"

Glenn took a step back, his ears ringing from the scream. Before he could recover, the tavern-owner was beating him over the head with her serving tray in an attempt to get him out of the tavern, which she quickly did. As Glenn skidded into the streets, the woman yelled at him further. "Those were my best customers in weeks! What do you think you're doing, ransacking MY bar and kicking out MY customers?! Then, of all things, you come back just to cop a feel! Have you no shame?! I've half a mind to call for a dragoon! They'd haul your sorry ass off to prison for what you did!"

Glenn tried to apologise, but only got as far as "Ma'am, I--" before the door slammed in his face. "I am a dragoon," he finished, more to himself than anyone else.

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Glenn suddenly realised he'd been slowly drifting, much the same way his thoughts had. Finding himself outside Guldove's only tavern, he was surprised to see light flooding across his feet, pouring out from the space below the curtains that acted as the entryway into the tavern itself. Though the situational irony was lost on Glenn at the time, he later realised that maybe entering the bar had less to do with his insomnia and more to do with his mood.

Lifting the curtain aside, he was shocked to see the tavern empty but for the pig-tailed blonde behind the counter, methodically wiping the grit from various mugs with her well-tanned arms. Without turning around, she greeted Glenn with a casual "Howdy stranger. What can I do for you?" Glenn slowly approached the bar without replying, his thick boots making the wooden planks along the floor creak and groan with every step.

Orlha suddenly stopped wiping the mug. Her face became hard and emotionless and she gently placed the mug down in the sink in front of her. Hearing the stranger sit down at the bar, every muscle in her body tensed. 'Only my regulars are in this late,' she thought, 'and they never come in quietly. Even Doc wouldn't do this. Whoever's here means business.'

Glenn took a seat at the bar directly behind Orlha. At a loss for words and afraid of interrupting her chores, he simply sat silently, waiting for her to turn around and perhaps give him the opportunity to speak. Having only known this woman for a matter of hours, he was anxious to learn how Serge had gotten hold of that blue stone that had made her face light up. He wanted to learn what that stone was, and why it mattered to her. He was also anxious to know whether she stood a chance.

Serge had told her what was going on around them, but she hadn't fought with them yet. He'd been to Hell and back, it seemed, fighting alongside Serge. He knew it would only get worse, so to think that they were drawing in anybody who could not protect themselves would haunt him for the rest of the journey. He had strongly objected to Riddel offering her services to Serge, though she had done so long before he'd had the chance to object, and Glenn had only let Marcy continue in their company because he knew she could fight, the fact that she outranked him notwithstanding. This woman before him, however, left him unsure. She didn't look as if she'd last long outside this small village. And he could only protect her for so long.

As Glenn, spilling over with questions, struggled to find the right one to start with, Orlha had her own ideas, and slowly leaned forward on the sink. Just as Glenn lifted his head to speak, Orlha jumped from the floor and, using her hands on the sink, thrust both of her feet outwards behind her, striking Glenn right in the face and sending him careening across the bar. Glenn landed on top of one of the tavern's tables, crushing it beneath him. Through his blurry vision he could barely discern a woman standing over him, her gloved hands held up to her mouth in shock, before finally slipping out of consciousness. It was, at the very least, an abrupt end to his insomnia.

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Glenn groaned softly as he awoke on the floor of the small sailboat that had once belonged to the ferryman Korcha, and was now adrift somewhere in the El Nido Archipelago. He rolled his head to one side and looked towards the horizon. He caught sight of the S.S. Invincible before a hand clutched his chin and pulled his face back abruptly. Suddenly his vision was filled with the face of Serge, hovering over him with a look of worry.

Half-heartedly tending to the sails behind Serge was the blonde woman by the name of Orlha who had so recently mistook him for a ruffian out to assault her. She leaned attentively over Serge's shoulder, staring at Glenn. "Is he all right?" she asked, innocently enough. Serge turned to her, a grin spreading across his face, and nodded quickly. A wave of relief overcame Orlha as she turned back to the sails. Glenn sat up and turned to Serge, now kneeling beside him. "Where are we?"

From Serge, through Orlha, Glenn quickly learned that they were off to Opassa Beach. Karsh had apparently been busy in both worlds, recovering a precious stone that Riddel had once planned to wear on her wedding day, which eventually led him to, on a hunch, a small island just east of Viper Manor. He had reportedly found something of extreme consequence, but refused to comment further, saying it was a surprise. Karsh and Sir Radius were awaiting their arrival on the small island, with Riddel and the two other Devas due to meet them en route. Today he could rest, leaving the sailing up to Serge. Tomorrow, he'd get to see this "surprise".

In his poor physical state, Glenn had forgotten about his most important possession. He looked frantically for it, twisting his head left and right. Serge, noticing his comrade's distress, simply pointed behind the dragoon to where the object lay. The unidentifiable blade, still wrapped tightly in heavy rags, sat right behind the dragoon. Glenn turned and pulled it towards himself slowly, almost afraid that the thing would turn to dust at his very touch, and slung it across his back as he always did. As Arni Village came into sight on the horizon, he was anxious to know exactly what Karsh was leading them to.

Now inside a different world, a world that seemed to abhor his very existence, Glenn sat aside the woman who had, only yesterday, sent him flying halfway across a bar with the heels of her boots. One thing he had learned all too quickly was that she would not need protecting. As he stared at the floor of the blue dinghy, her voice caught him by surprise. "What's that on your back?" Looking up, Glenn could see the woman's fierce glare stuck on the package slung over his back. Glenn had not been very outward about what it was, and was not about to change his attitude.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Looks like a sword," she said. So, Glenn thought, she was smarter than she looked.

"How did you know?" Glenn asked.

"I can tell by way it hangs around your shoulders. The weight distribution and the shape mean it could only be a sword, and one with a particularly large hilt, I might add. Something pretty old, since they don't make swords that big anymore, but definitely light for its size, though still heavier than any blade you'd find today."

"Whoa," was all Glenn could muster after having been taken to school by this arrogant looking yet suggestively dressed barmaid. "How, how do you know all of that?" he asked as his stare drifted once again to the floor of the boat.

"I see a lot of things, working in a bar, travellers not being the least of them. And they bring a lot of things with them. I've been shown blades all from all over the world. Something about men with swords, they always carry it with them and show it off whenever they can, bragging about how big it is. They have to name it, and they whip it out in front of you and show it to you. Then they ask you if you want to feel it, and they tell you all about it...."

Orlha trailed off in the hopes that she might get Glenn to say something, anything, but the knight simply stared out to sea. Serge wasn't talking, and Glenn hadn't said much since waking up. As a bartender, she was used to listening to people, being the open ear when they had problems. On this small boat, she was the one who had to start the conversations. It was unsettling. "Why don't you show me yours?"

Glenn suddenly sat up straight and turned to face her, a wide-eyed expression on his face. "What?"

"Oh come on, don't be shy, I'm sure it's nothing to be ashamed of. Look, I'll take it out, then, and look at it myself, if you don't mind. I promise I won't swing it around too much."

As the blood visibly rushed to Glenn's face, Orlha began to reach for Glenn's lap. Glenn, too stunned by her double-entendres to mount a defence, sat helplessly as he watched Orlha's gloved hand wrap around his sword's hilt. Orlha pulled the sword hanging around his waist from its sheath, standing up as she did so. As she hefted the blade, its silver sheen glinted in the sun. She held it up to her eye, looking down its length, before taking a few practice swings.

Serge, seated in the back of the boat steering the three to their destination, laughed as Orlha clumsily waved the blade around over her head. Orlha offered the hilt back to Glenn, shrugging as she did so. "Looks good," she said in a nonchalant manner. "It'll dull easily, but the rust won't hit it unless you're really careless. Seems like one of the Acacia Dragoon standards made in Termina, a little easier to handle, maybe. You obviously care for it well though, because the blade doesn't look half as old as the hilt feels. That sword has to be at least a decade old."

He was stunned. In truth, Glenn had received the sword from Dario once his brother had inherited the Einlanzer. Glenn trained with it, and the sword had undoubtedly saved his life on more than one occasion. She was right about its origins, having been made by Zappa especially for Dario soon after the blacksmith's retirement from the dragoons.

Glenn stood up to sheath the sword, but masked how impressed he was at her knowledge. She wasn't finished, however. "But," she added, "the sword on your back is at least a hundred times better, judging by its thickness and length." With this, she was also completely correct. With a sigh, Glenn seated himself. He couldn't possibly show her what was under the cloths, especially now.

Orlha, unimpressed by the fruits of her effort to elicit a response, frowned. She had pulled out her big guns, and still received no sign of small talk from either of her two companions. She was almost beginning to miss the incessant whining of the demi-humans in Guldove's tavern. Almost. Having surrendered to a trip of complete silence, she slumped down in the seat beside Glenn and heaved a heavy sigh.

That was when it dropped to the floor of the boat, bouncing across the dinghy's floor. The little blue stone that Serge had given Orlha on his return to Guldove jumped out of her pocket and landed at Glenn's feet. As Glenn leaned over to pick it up his thoughts were flooded with all of the questions his sleep-depraved mind had encouraged him to ask the barmaid the night before. Orlha, noticing what Glenn was reaching for, lunged forward and plucked it right out from underneath his hand, managing a weak "Oh, that's mine." Orlha quickly tucked it back in her pocket and turned away from Glenn, towards the open sea.

Again she turned her back to him, leaving Glenn questioning whether he should even bother. It seems even when he sported his heavy uniform, he could turn an attempt to help into a bad situation. Glenn, bolstered by their common interest in well-forged steel, decided, in an effort to loosen lips and ease tensions, to try something he hadn't ever tried before. Speak first. After all, he would be travelling with this woman, so why not make it easier for both of them?

The thickly wrapped blade landed roughly in her lap, causing Orlha to almost jump out of her seat were it not for the package now planting her firmly in it. "I suppose you might call it a gift from my father." Glenn said, gently restraining her wrists as Orlha started to unwrap the rags hiding the sword's true form. "I...can't let you see it, I'm afraid. It would make things...awkward." Orlha simply chuckled.

"What, is this old thing so rusted that you're afraid you'll look bad? Poor little Glenn didn't tend to his sword, and now he has to hide it or he'll be upstaged by a girl?" Orlha continued to chuckle, but as she looked up into Glenn's face she saw an expression of dead seriousness.

"You might say that," was all he would divulge. Orlha decided against any further jokes, simply lifting the package with her hands.

"It's so light," she exclaimed.

"It's made from a material that can't be found anymore," he stated. "Dreamstone."

"Really?!" Orlha cried, almost too loudly, as she dropped the tightly wrapped sword into her lap. This grasped Glenn's attention further, causing him to glare intently at Orlha as she quickly turned her face towards the ground, hiding from his stare. "I guess you're surprised I even know what that is. That's because my brooch is made from the same sort of stuff." Now it was Glenn's turn to be surprised, and his eyes widened noticeably as he turned himself in his seat to better face Orlha and listen to the forthcoming explanation.

"Well, not exactly the same stuff. It's not that old. But it's been said that, long ago, when it was still naturally formed, Dreamstone would occasionally surface in very cold areas, causing it to harden into this sort of blue stone." At this, Orlha pulled the broken sapphire from her pocket and showed it to Glenn. "This is what it turns into. It loses a lot of what makes it great for swords when it changes this way, but it loses none of its beauty." Orlha lifted the blue stone, holding it between her face and Glenn's.

Using it to mask half of his face from her sight, she couldn't help but notice the similarity his visible eye had to the colour of the stone. Both the stone and his eye seemed to have a story beneath them, of hope and pain, yet their beauty never faded. With that, they were both jolted as the boat grounded itself on a beach at the edge of a small island. With the main island of El Nido looming nearby, another boat, carrying Zoah, Marcy, and Lady Riddel, soon joined them. Together, the six of them entered the thick forest of the small island, their only guidepost a thin wisp of smoke rising from somewhere in the centre of the woods.

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As they approached the small wooden cottage, they could see a pair of red eyes quickly glance out the window, then hide away again. Suddenly Karsh stood at the front door of the cottage, holding the door wide open. "You guys will never believe what we found!" Then Karsh, followed by Radius, exited the cottage and walked down the steps, ushering the rest of them up into the cottage. With the eight of them, not to mention the cottage's owner, all inside, it was cramped. But no one took notice. It was the tenth occupant that grabbed everyone's attention. Dario.

It all happened so fast Orlha could not keep track of what went on. Suddenly, she was in the company of people of legend that she had only heard spoken of in a soft whisper, the likes of the great dragoon Radius, and the Devas Karsh, Zoah, and Marcy. Then they called the man Dario, the legend himself, who somehow still lived in this world, much to the surprise of herself and everyone around her.

It all quickly descended into madness, and people were running everywhere, yelling at her, or at someone else, but none of the words made it to her ears. It was as if she had floated out of her body and was watching the entire scene from outside of it. One thing that did make it through was Glenn's only response to the madness. "No, I have finally found my brother. There is no way I can fight him!"

This is what had been hidden behind his eyes: his noble blood, his destiny with the dragoons, and his place in history as son and brother of the two greatest dragoons to ever live. Somehow, she stumbled outside and into the forest surrounding the cottage, where she fell to the ground and simply sat there for some time, clutching her head to help keep it from spinning. She could see what was left now.

The Masamune had descended upon the cottage, and suddenly fear gripped the hearts of everyone inside. As Dario clutched the sword, an evil smile on his face, the ghostly form of Garai had appeared, looming over Dario. Then the reality set in, and everyone could hear what Dario was repeating over and over. "Riddel! My blade will sate itself on your blood!" The Devas had quickly stepped in, thinking the three of them could surely best their counterpart. Boy, were they wrong.

Zoah had moved first, only to be tossed aside by a glancing blow. It hit his armour, sparse at it was, but sent him flying through the wall of the cottage. Marcy had rushed after him, afraid he'd been killed, while Karsh, suffering numerous wounds all over his body as he attempted to fend off Dario's relentless swordplay, was dragged to safety by Serge, the blue-haired hero having also been knocked around as Zoah had been thrown past him.

Riddel, Radius, and Glenn quickly rushed outside the cottage, but Dario was not far behind. Radius and Glenn motioned to form a protective wall between Dario and Riddel, weapons drawn, but Dario simply stopped and stared at them, mere metres away.

Afraid to make a move, Radius and Glenn held their ground. Suddenly, a burst of the dark essence that now permeated Dario's very being blew forward, aimed at Riddel. Both former and current dragoon stepped into the blast, shielding Riddel from it.

Glenn struggled against the evil power but fought through the blast, his chest heaving with the heavy breathing required for keeping up such exertions. Radius, however, had neither the advantage of youth nor of health, and collapsed in a heap, unable to move. Now Glenn and Riddel slowly backed up, Dario moving ever closer to his intended prey.

By this time, Orlha had gotten her wits about her, and was rushing towards Dario alongside Serge. Serge suddenly became a blur as, with an incredible burst of speed, he rushed at Dario head on. Dario brought about a parry to Serge's attack, and held him at bay with relative ease. As Serge continued to struggle against Dario's power, Orlha leapt at the man, poised for a strong kick to his head. Dario, however, was not as susceptible as his younger brother had been a mere day before, and brought his free hand up, grabbing Orlha's ankle and deflecting her attack so that he now held her upside down by the foot.

Orlha pounded her fists against Dario's bright armour in a vain attempt to return the favour, but by this time Dario had the upper hand, knocking Serge out with a thrust from the butt of the Masamune. Not far away, Glenn and Riddel continued to slowly creep backwards, though they were both visibly shaking. They tightly clutched their weapons, all which stood between them and a madman on the warpath. "What shall we do, Glenn?" Riddel quietly asked her protector. "We have no way of defeating him, but he must be stopped. I cannot stand to see our friends strewn about in this place without retribution or escape. Yet...it is Dario."

"I understand," said Glenn in a weak but steady voice. "I, too, could not fight Dario, were it to come to that. He is my brother, my hero, and to think that I would be facing him in battle…I—"

"Do not say it, Glenn," was Riddel's immediate reply. As they continued to slowly back away, Dario casually tossed Orlha aside, leaving her sprawled on the ground. Turning to face Glenn and Riddel, Dario just managed to catch Glenn's quick glance in both Serge's and Orlha's direction. A momentary redirection of his stare, it was all Dario needed.

Dario first walked over to where he had disposed of Orlha. At this, Glenn clutched his sword tighter but remained otherwise motionless. Riddel, however, began to back up steadily from Glenn, her eyes growing wide as she stared at Glenn's back. Orlha, now in a bad way, rolled over on to her back just in time to see Dario bring the tip of the Masamune slowly down to her throat. Dario, his eyes still fixed on Glenn, yelled out to his brother.

"Little Glenn! I see it in your eyes! You know that all I want is Riddel, so why not leave her to me? If you do, I may be distracted long enough for you to gather whom you can and leave this place. If not..." with this, Dario turned to face Orlha "one by one all but you and Riddel shall die!" At this, Glenn swallowed hard, despite his throat being completely dry.

He could hear nothing. He lost all awareness of his surroundings. All he could see was his brother, whom he had admired all his life, even in death, holding a sword at the throat of a friend, as if he himself were facing down the length of that evil blade. Yet Dario's expression was gradually changing from one of clear superiority to one of curiosity. Only two words were able to reach Glenn, both screamed from Riddel's mouth.

"Your back!" Riddel cried, and Glenn looked over his shoulder at her, now much farther away than he remembered. Soon, another voice came through, this one soft and soothing, without gender or age, without emotion or source. It said but one sentence and then disappeared forever. It said: "Take hold, young man, for evil shall still rue this day!"

Fireworks went off inside Glenn's head, telling him what he had wanted to hear for so long. So with that knowledge, Glenn took the sword he held in his hands and threw it at Dario as hard as he could. Dario brought up his blade and easily knocked the projectile aside, breaking the sword in two.

"And so you destroy that, my last memento of the kind and loving Dario I once knew," Glenn cried. "Now there is nothing left but this hate-filled man I see before me." Glenn, kneeling on the ground, unwrapped the heavy rags covering what had for so long been slung across his back. Beneath it, the unknown sword glowed, the glow becoming more and more prominent as the rags slowly disappeared. As Glenn unravelled the rags, he remembered what a smarmy little fortune-teller had once told him.

He was the moon, with no light of his own, only able to reflect the sun. Now, the sun that was Dario had sunk from sight, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake. Into that darkness he now entered, the moon, the guidepost to those that are lost. And so his brother was now lost. He would now be forced to guide them all back to the sunlight, reflecting the light that had once been solely Dario's to give. He picked up the ancient Dragonian blade, now exuding a pale blue glow, and held it pointed at his brother, ready for battle.

"Crush his will," was all the voice told Dario. "He can't wield it without the will to do so! Crush his spirit! Start with her!" At this, Dario looked down at the blonde woman at his feet, shaking with fear but still glaring at him, growling through clenched teeth. Drawing his blade back to strike, Dario did not hear Glenn's ringing battle cry, nor see the sacred Einlanzer fly up to meet the Masamune halfway down to Orlha's prone body. Now Glenn and Dario stood side by side, Dario pushing down on the Masamune, Glenn lifting up with the Einlanzer.

The swords began to crackle with energy, the noise growing louder the longer they embraced. Glenn leaned back and thrust himself sideways, his body check throwing both swordsmen off balance but ending the stand off. Now the two brothers stood before each other, equal foes, their swords slowly rising before them. Meeting in the centre, the tips of the blades gently brushed against each other.

A few seconds of stillness were followed by the screams of both men as they violently unleashed blow after blow against each other, each strike blocked, each thrust parried. Bringing the Masamune down from over his head, Dario narrowly missed Glenn as the younger brother hopped back, just out of the evil blade's reach. Swinging his sword upwards in response, Glenn's attack sent a shockwave rippling though the surrounding forest as the Einlanzer once more locked with the Masamune. Dario, aiming the tip of the Masamune at his brother's neck, rammed his sword forwards. Glenn, with a smart shift of weight, cast the blow aside with his own blade, retaliating with a spinning slash that Dario narrowly avoided. Finally the two had each other bested; both men drove forwards, pushing against the crossed blades in front of them as their faces drew so close together their noses nearly touched. It was at that time that Dario whispered to Glenn the words that would change the course of events that fateful day, though neither knew it at the time.

"Maybe after I kill Riddel," Dario began, motioning towards a stricken Orlha as he did so, "maybe I'll just leave the blonde for later. Have my way with her. What do you think? Would you like to watch, Glenn? I could keep you alive for that. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? I'll bet she squirms, that one. What fun." Dario abruptly shoved Glenn back with his free hand, watching as his brother stumbled backwards and fell to the ground on one knee. Dario brought back the Masamune for the final blow. Taking advantage of Glenn's weak position, Dario swung the Masamune down towards his brother's head. Dario heard Riddel scream, and as the sound of metal ripping through metal and tearing flesh reached his ears, he assumed the best.

As he looked down, Dario saw that he had indeed reached flesh, but not nearly as much as hoped. For there, beneath the blade of the Masamune, knelt Glenn, shielding his face with his lifted arm. The evil blade had gone right through the buckler on Glenn's arm and a short way into the flesh and bone beneath as several rivulets of blood ran down the length of the Masamune and fell to the ground. "What is this?!" Dario cried in disbelief. "My blade should have ripped you in two!"

As Dario spoke, Glenn began to glow the same pale blue hue as the Einlanzer, just as his brother glowed with the dark, fearful aura of the hated Masamune. As he looked into his brother's eyes, Dario saw something he had not seen since his brother was still a temperamental child: pure, unrestrained anger. So in turn, Glenn saw in his brother's eyes something he had never seen there ever before: fear.

Glenn rose to his feet, making sure to keep his buckler always between himself and his brother's sword. Finally on his feet, Glenn twirled in place, a blur of bronze and a glint of steel the only visual evidence that Glenn had suddenly brought his blade 'round in a spinning slash, sending the Einlanzer tearing across the length of his brother's chest. The holy blade cut right through Dario's armour, sending Dario stumbling backwards under the force of the blow. As blood began to spill out from underneath his armour, Dario again lifted the Masamune over his head, this time slicing down through the air and sending a crescent blade of dark energy flying towards Glenn. Glenn, still glowing, did not move.

The dark energy struck him, sending up a great burst of wind, but the attack dissipated as soon as it touched him. "You once taught me the use of that attack, brother," Glenn said. Glenn glowed brightly as he brought his blade across the length of his body and seemingly hugged himself tightly. "Now, I will teach its proper use to you!" With this, Glenn uncurled his body and sliced lengthwise across the air in front of him, sending out another crescent blade of energy, this one bright blue. It struck Dario with such force that the knight was blown back right into the wall of the cottage that had sustained so little damage compared to the people around it. Dario fell to the ground amidst a hail of splintered wood, and as he lay flat on his face the evil Masamune, now torn from his grip, tumbled to the ground beside him with a dull thud.

With the chaos that again ensued, Orlha could barely keep track of what happened. After Marcy had helped Orlha to her feet the little girl had rushed off, trying to tend to the wounds of others. Orlha stumbled around briefly, occasionally feeling a shot of pain when she put weight on her feet a certain way or bent her body too far in one direction. All things considered, she seemed to herself to be rather well. She could hear various shouts, some of joy, others of pain, and yet more of disbelief. She discovered later that this was Serge assuming his new role as the Masamune's keeper, but for now she just needed to make sure that the people she couldn't see in her immediate vicinity were still alive. What had happened to that man that attacked them? She couldn't see him! She did not see Glenn anywhere, either! What had happened to him?! She remembered he had narrowly saved her life, but could recall nothing after that.

Orlha stumbled about until, oblivious to her surroundings, she reached the partially demolished cottage, resting against it for support. Then she saw them. Dario still lay in the spot where he had fallen after the fight, now on his back, and the former Deva seemed to be struggling for words as his brother, Glenn, now kneeling beside him, clutched Dario tightly to his chest. As Glenn hugged his brother, oblivious to the blood continuing to pour from his arm, tears streamed down his cheeks. From this sight Orlha quickly turned away as tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled her little blue gem from her pocket and clutched it tightly to her chest.

------------------------

After she had accompanied her many companions and friends in Serge's unprecedented storming of Chronopolis, Orlha felt long overdue for a rest. Secure in the knowledge that the dragons had played them all for fools, Serge had been distraught and overcome with grief. It was understandable. Serge had led them all this far only to find that he himself had been led all along. Leaving Chronopolis without direction, she was with Serge as he ran their ship aground near his home, Arni Village, where they had stayed for a few nights. Serge resolved to go visit Kid as she slept under the watchful eyes of Radius, and he had requested to do so alone. Orlha, intrigued by the idea of a whole other world, had stayed behind on El Nido's central continent as Serge took off for Radius' hidden burrow with the hopes of formulating a further plan along the way.

Booking passage to Guldove, Orlha was curious to know how her other self had managed the tavern there, anxious to learn anything useful for the improvement of her trade. No sooner had she arrived than Doc had met her and asked to speak to her privately. It seemed that her arrival on the island had created quite a stir. Inside his small hut, Doc told her what she had been both looking forward to and dreading her entire life. Her sister was here, in this world. Tia was alive. Tia was also dying.

A few minutes were all Orlha had received. She had begged Tia not to leave, to open her eyes one more time. Then she'd wept unabashedly, letting go of her sister for the second time in her life. Unable to sleep, fraught with sadness, she'd sat aside the bed that had once cradled Tia's frail body. She'd held her own blue gem up to the window, letting it sparkle in the moonlight, but at the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she had noticed another sparkle, this one coming from the bedside table. She then reached over and picked up a blue gem almost exactly like her own.

She had then held both stones aloft and, almost against her will, had placed the new gem alongside her own. They'd locked, as if they had at one time been two parts of the same whole. Yet, when she had tried to pull them apart again, she found she could not, but rather that they had bonded, reformed into a single gem. How it had happened, she didn't know, nor did she have time to think it over. Tia was suddenly speaking to her, Tia's ghostly figure having appeared before her, and Orlha, her eyes still stinging with tears, spoke to the ghostly figure as if her sister still lived and indeed stood before her. "Tia, why? Why me? Why did you...?" Orlha could not go on, slowly choking on her own grief.

"It was time, Sis. I had watched your fight from my dreams. I understood what was happening. So I held on long enough to see you just once. After that, I knew I could go in peace."

"So you did it to hurt me?! You made me think I had another chance to be with my family?!"

"No, Sis, I had to see you to know for sure that you were safe. That the new family you've found, Serge and his companions, would replace me. With time."

"But what about our real family?! Why couldn't you have stayed, and then we could have gone off together to find Mom and Dad, and we'd, we'd...."

"You've already found them, Sis."

"Tia...."

"They are with you in that brooch. Their prayers are inside that blue gem, and they will watch over you. As for me, I'll be right beside you the whole way."

The ghostly image of Tia began to fade, prompting Orlha to rush forward and cry "Don't go!", but to no avail. Tia's voice was heard one final time before being quieted for good.

It simply said "You're not alone, Sis. He knows what it's like."

------------------------

The next morning Orlha had disembarked for Termina once more, her stay in Guldove abruptly cut short by her own agony every time she looked towards the harbour, where Doc's small hut stood. The brooch was all she had now, but in it she carried the spirit of everyone she loved, so she felt a renewed vigour, as if she'd been resting for an entire week. Now, she had a reason to fight.

After arriving in Termina she'd caught wind that Serge was back, searching the El Nido Triangle for some unknown reason. Never one to doubt Serge, she worked her way quickly south, arriving at Opassa Beach a few hours before Serge arrived alongside a tiny alien named Starky. A space ship, the little thing had said, sitting underwater in the other world. That was how they were going to fly to Terra Tower.

While the S.S. Invincible drifted lazily through El Nido's seas, the occupants of the ship found themselves doing quite the opposite. Every room, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the ship buzzed with activity. After Serge had unwittingly discovered a way to reach Terra Tower, preparations had begun. Starky took Serge to find the long lost space ship, whose contents would undoubtedly answer the nagging question of how to get up atop the winged, floating monstrosity. Orlha, having caught a ride back to this world with Serge, was busy every day. She worked on her fighting techniques in her room, just wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Or she sat alone atop the Crow's Nest, looking out to sea as she searched her heart for the answer to unlocking the brooch she had been left with. She knew her family's prayers were with her, but still locked up inside her brooch they could do her no good. In truth, she had no use for the strength the brooch provided, but was searching for the comfort afforded by being able to feel her loved ones around her whenever she carried the blue gem, which just happened to be always.

It was atop the Crow's Nest one day that she looked down to see the pride of General Viper and all of El Nido, the Acacia Dragoons, training atop the main deck of the ship. And there, amidst the crowds of dragoons, was Glenn, holding in his hands the Einlanzer as he squared off against, and eventually bested, Sir Radius. Later, Karsh emerged to challenge Glenn and had given him a good run for his money. Both moved so quickly that Orlha could barely follow their movements. Glenn had soon forced Karsh against the railing lining the outskirts of the deck, forcing Karsh to unleash a fearsome but clumsy attack. Glenn bobbed and weaved, narrowly avoiding each swing of Karsh's axe, until finally bringing his sword up quickly, knocking the axe from Karsh's hand in mid-swing. With the tip of Glenn's sword perched precariously at his throat, Karsh had simply laughed aloud, congratulating Glenn on his performance.

The whole time, Orlha could not take her eyes off of the sacred blade. She remembered how it had shone a blue hue, not unlike the sapphire she held in her hand. She remembered that it was made of Dreamstone, something this blue gem once was. If anything held the answer to unlocking the souls within her gem, it was that sword and, by consequence, its wielder. Orlha caught him in the mess the next day, right after training. Strangely enough, it appeared that he was shovelling Viper Churros into his mouth at an alarming rate. She approached him, but could get no response, his mouth full of food. Glenn swallowed, and, taking a mouthful of water from his nearby cup, nearly spat it all out as Orlha jumped up in front of him on the table he sat at and proceeded to crouch down, shoving her blue gem in his stunned face.

Glenn still held a lot of questions about that gem, especially since it was made of the same material as the Einlanzer. Now he was even more curious, as the gem had grown considerably in size since he had last seen it. Glenn opened his mouth, preparing to let a tide of questions rush forth, only to be interrupted. "Let me see your sword again." Glenn was speechless. This young woman whom he had known for a mere matter of weeks was demanding to see his sword, a dragoon's most prized possession, a second time, all without giving him a chance to respond. "Give me your sword or the next time you eat, it'll be through a straw." Glenn found that he could not argue with that.

Having retired to the more peaceful locale of his quarters aboard the ship, Glenn stood at attention just inside the door as Orlha paced the length of the room, shouting various things at his sword. On and off she had tried poking the gem with the tip of the sword, running the blue stone along the length of the blade, and even throwing the sword to the ground and angrily stomping on it. Glenn had put an abrupt stop to that one.

Not wanting to speak for fear of his internal organs, Glenn had let this process go on in relative silence, but now Orlha appeared to have calmed down, simply sitting on the side of his bed and staring at her hands. In one was the Einlanzer, in the other her sapphire brooch, now whole. She wasn't getting the answers she was looking for. The silence had hung over the room for several minutes, and it was making Orlha nervous. Yet before she could ask a question, Glenn asked one first. "What is it you're trying to do?" Orlha's only response was to balk at the thought of giving him the real answer. The thought of having just yelled at two inanimate objects for the past hour suddenly left her feeling rather sheepish. "Very well," continued Glenn, "if you won't tell me that, at least tell me where you had your brooch repaired."

"Huh?" Orlha had only caught the last part. "What do you mean?"

"When last I saw that brooch it was broken, and much smaller. Now it is whole, and sits inside an elegant casing. I would like to know where you had that done."

"Why do you want to know?" asked Orlha, quickly taking to the defensive in case Glenn knew something already.

"A smith as skilled as the one who repaired your brooch would be of much value to the dragoons, especially myself. I am quite sure that the Einlanzer, made of a similar substance as that gem, can not simply be handed over to anyone and repaired." Glenn had won that round of misleading. He knew the sword itself would never rust or dull.

In truth, the brooch simply piqued his curiosity, as did the young woman who carried it and protected it as if it were her own flesh and blood. He had a certain degree of respect for anyone who would defend to the death an object that carried only personal, sentimental value. Glenn suspected that this brooch was the same for her as the Einlanzer, or rather the legacy contained within, was for him. If only he could get out of her what the brooch was, he'd be satisfied.

Orlha, on the other hand, was worried about what telling the truth might lead to. Wouldn't she sound crazy? Then again, she'd seen enough crazy things in the past few months to make this seem downright dull. She's spent her life listening, but recently she'd had to do all the talking. What was a bit more? Besides, she knew she could trust this one. Of all the people on the boat, no one exuded straight and narrow like Glenn. Having been given no answer, Glenn took a cautious step forward in order to emphasize his next question, but he never got the chance to ask.

"You're right, this brooch wasn't always whole." Orlha steeled herself for what came next. "In this world, my parents and sister have been missing since I was a small child. I thought one day I'd go look for them, but I haven't had the chance. The only clue I have left is the half of a gem that I used to have. In the other world, though, I found my sister alive. But she died not too long after I found her. Her half of this gem was there, the other half, and when I put the two together, they stuck. Then," this was where it began to get weird, so Orlha turned her face to Glenn's, watching for any sign of scepticism, "my dead sister appeared to me. My sister told me that my parents' prayers were inside this gem, and that her spirit was there too, watching me, and helping me. So I figured that if I could unlock the prayers and power within the brooch I'd be able to get closer to my family. Your sword, being made of the same stuff as the gem, is my only lead."

She finished, still looking at Glenn's face, yet not once had his sincere expression changed. He simply stared at her further, absorbing this new information. Orlha, turning her gaze away from his piercing stare, continued. "If you don't believe me, I understand. I know it sounds really weird but, having been on this boat, I think you understand how everything's gotten weird in this world all of a sudden."

"I understand completely."

This took Orlha completely off guard. A partial acceptance, maybe she could see it happening, but he had swallowed the whole thing, part and parcel! She sat straight up, now staring straight ahead. She then jerked her head sideways, turning to face him again. "Really?"

"Of course," Glenn replied. "I myself have had my share of unusual experiences since joining Serge. That still does not explain what you hope to accomplish here, though, if anything can be accomplished from this." With this comment, Orlha again jumped to the defensive

"What do I hope to accomplish? I want to release the power in the brooch! My parents and my sister, I can't feel them near me! Only when I hold the brooch tight against my chest can I feel anything, and even then it's only faint! I want to unlock whatever's inside the brooch and see...no, feel what my parents left for me!" Orlha had become red in the face and now realised she was standing mere inches from Glenn, breathing heavily after this verbal outburst.

Yet, against her better judgement, she continued. "That sword is made from the same stuff as this gem! Maybe together they can unlock the brooch! If I find out how that sword works, I can use it to release whatever's in the gem, and see my family again!" This last part surprised her. Had she really believed she'd see them again? They were dead, weren't they?

"What you're doing is useless." Despite what she knew and didn't know about the whole situation, Glenn's remark struck her like a knife in the heart. It was almost as if he'd single-handedly killed her hopes of ever hearing her sister's sweet voice ever again. But her resolve was greater than that.

"You're wrong. I can release my family. But...I need that sword."

"Don't do this. You're just hurting yourself."

"Then give me your sword, and you won't have to worry about it!"

"I won't."

"What do you know?! You can't understand what it's like to have your family gone forever! They're in there, I can feel it! If I have a chance to bring them back, don't you think I should get just one chance?! I need to see my family! I need to see Tia again! You don't know what it's like living without her!" As tears welled up in Orlha's eyes it suddenly struck her as to who she was actually talking to. Yet through it all, Glenn's expression had not hardened. If anything, it seemed more sympathetic.

"My father and brother were both killed by their best friends. Despite what you think, I know exactly how you feel." Orlha had giving up caring about what she said at this point. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to get her sister back.

"What could you possibly have to complain about?! Everyone you ever had is still right here!! You got your brother back in one piece, didn't you?!" Orlha saw this remark strike a nerve, and she knew she had a window of opportunity. Winding up, Orlha struck Glenn across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor in a daze. She quickly turned, grabbed the brooch and the sword, and made a mad dash for the door. Orlha ran off of the ship, docked in Termina at the time, and rushed through the streets, ducking in and out of the bustling crowds and fearing that at any moment any one of the passers-by might pull her aside and ask her what she was up to. She could not explain, not yet. Orlha ran to the far end of Termina, dashing underneath the small priest's hut that sat on stilts by the river and leaning against one of the supporting posts in an attempt to regain her breath.

Orlha sat down on the cold ground there and waited. She waited for the inevitable retribution, the inevitable search and seizure, the inevitable demand for explanations. Yet no one appeared the entire afternoon, and, having spent the entire evening weeping for her lost sister, Orlha lay down on the ground that night, and slept. She woke with a start just after dawn. The sword still lay beside her, along with her precious gem, but now someone had joined her. Looking out from underneath the hut, she could see a dragoon in bronze armour standing before the makeshift memorial in the middle of the nearby calm pool of water.

It could only be Glenn, this she knew, but she also noticed the Bellflower he held in his hand. The wind whipped furiously around him, but the only motion was that of his hair and uniform flapping about. He held the flower close to his side to protect it from the wind, for surely it would have been blown apart by the raging gale. Orlha slowly crept out from underneath the hut, carrying with her the sword and gem. After emerging from her sheltered retreat beneath the hut, the wind quickly bit through Orlha's thin clothing, and she struggled to keep her hair out of her eyes as it was violently tossed about. "So you've come to get me then?" Orlha cried out. "Or maybe just to retrieve your sword?"

"Neither," came Glenn's reply. "I am here this morning as I am on any other morning, paying my respects to the dead and honouring their memory in life." With that Glenn leaned down and placed the Bellflower carefully at the foot of the memorial, into which this world's Einlanzer was still inserted. The wind, however, quickly picked up the flower and blew it away into the river nearby, leaving it to drift to wherever the whim of the master-less wake might take it. Glenn did not appear upset at this turn of events, and merely turned around and walked over to where Orlha still stood, fearing his rebuke. Much to her surprise, none came. The two simply stood in silence, staring at each other.

Orlha spoke first. "I need it to bring them back. Don't you understand?"

"You said that I could not understand, that I had gotten my brother back. If that is so, then why do I still come here? Everyone who used to visit this grave has all but forgotten their Dario, finding it easier to replace him with the one that is still alive in the other world. Yet here lies the Dario I know and love. My brother lies here, alongside my father. The other Dario, he's not my brother, for you see, my family never did come back to me." Orlha was struck speechless as Glenn continued. "Your family is no different. They were here once, but are gone for good now. Your memories of them are still with you, though. You should treasure them, and honour your family by living your life according to what they taught you. Without my brother, I would surely never have survived my troubled youth, so I honour him in death by mirroring his teachings in life. This is how I can bring him back. This is the only way I can bring him back. If I were to attempt to physically bring him back to life, if I were to suddenly start over as if the other Dario were my brother and nothing had happened in the years between, I would be killing my real brother."

Orlha could only stammer a weak response. "You...you...don't...."

"Do as you wish, but you shall do so without the Einlanzer." Glenn moved quickly, plucking the sword from Orlha's weakened grasp. Glenn then expertly slid the sword into its sheath around his waist and walked away from Orlha, back towards the memorial. Just then, a voice sounded inside Orlha's head. She recognised it immediately as Tia's voice, calling out to her, but she couldn't make out the words. She stopped, listening intently. She barely made out her sister's vague words against the howling wind.

"You're not alone, Sis." Orlha remembered now, and mouthed the rest of the words as Tia repeated them. "He knows what it's like." Orlha felt a wave of guilt and nausea pass over her, finding herself sick at the memory of her recent heartlessness. Before she could call out to Glenn, before she could repeal her mistakes and begin her atonement, Glenn's hand shot to the hilt of his sword.

"What? It's never done this before!" Drawing the Einlanzer, Glenn could see it now glowing a pale blue, the same he had seen the day he fought the Masamune. But now, the Einlanzer in the ground before him was mirroring the one in his hand. As Glenn tried to figure out just what was going on, Orlha ran up behind him, staring at this world's holy blade as it floated before them, having dislodged itself from the tiny memorial. The sword floated softly towards them. Glenn's free hand shot forward, partly of its own will, and gripped the floating blade by the hilt. Now clutching both Einlanzers, Glenn himself began to glow with the pale blue aura. Orlha could not understand why, but Glenn began to speak to himself.

"Brother?!" Glenn shouted. "Yes, I understand. This sword I shall take into my hands, and together we will fulfill our unfinished dream."

With a burst of light, Orlha was blown back from the memorial, holding her arms in front of her face to shield her eyes from the blast as her feet skidded along the rocky ground. Orlha flew all the way back to a spot beneath the priest's hut before she finally felt the power that had forced her back fade away. As the bright light surrounding the small memorial subsided, Orlha removed her arms from in front of her face. She could barely make out the shape of Glenn in the centre of the fading light, now with two swords hanging around his waist instead of one. Both looked the same at the hilt, and she knew then that both Einlanzers rested with Glenn. Orlha thought that now, surely, he could spare one for her, but she quickly extinguished those thoughts before she could say anything else foolish. She had said enough foolish things to Glenn already.

Before her very eyes, his point had been unquestionably proven. Glenn turned to her and smiled. As he approached, she still could not speak, and merely watched as he stopped inches in front of her. Glenn grabbed her hand, the one that still held the blue gem, and raised it to her chest, pushing it against the gap in her shirt that would normally be used to earn her tips. "Can you still feel them?" He asked her. She simply nodded. It was true. She could feel the compassion of her father, the strength of her mother, and the warmth of her sister, pulsing through her body like a fever. "Then why spend so much time trying to bring them back?" He asked. "They're already here."

------------------------

As she and Glenn hurtled up the final staircase of Terra Tower, Orlha could hear the screams of agony coming from the statues around them. It was obvious Glenn heard them too, as he had now slowed to a walk. The two dragged on further and further, into more vicious cries of pain and screams of fear. Orlha at last stopped. She felt weak, and her stomach wanted to hurl whatever was left in it all over the stairs in front of her, but he had grabbed her hand. Dragging her up the staircase, Glenn leapt over the final stair and nearly threw Orlha to the ground in front of him. At the last second she regained her balance enough to keep from falling, but Orlha had to quickly grab Glenn by the shoulder in order to prevent further stumbling. The two looked up to see the results of their drastic plan. Everyone had, over the course of several hours, been shipped up to Terra Tower, and it was agreed that everyone would divide into teams of three and scramble for the top, making sure that, at the very least, some of them would get to the top, because that was all that mattered.

The two of them had been paired with Fargo, who had valiantly offered to hold the beasts guarding the base of the stairs at bay while the two of them hurried to the top, the final plateau of the tower. Glenn and Orlha both could only hope another group would arrive and aid Fargo before he could no longer defend himself. Now, at the top of the tower, Glenn and Orlha could both see the fruits of their efforts.

Before them, standing near the Frozen Flame itself, was Serge, with Kid and Guile faithfully at his side, waiting for others. That was all. The two greeted Kid and Guile as happily as they could under the circumstances, but this was all the time the flame needed. It called to Serge in a voice no one else could hear. It drew him forwards, and no one even noticed. It was irresistible, and Serge could not fight it. This had been what he was searching for the whole time. Everything had amounted to this. Kid noticed, but only too late. As the flame opened suddenly, slowly, revealing its true form, Serge's fingers graced its shell. It began shining brightly, a beacon in the thick night that perpetually surrounded the tower itself.

It called forth a being the troupe had seen once before, in the skies over Chronopolis, and this creature knew from first sight that they would not survive. The flame now had everything in place. It would not stick around for the show. As the Frozen Flame faded from sight, the massive dragon-demon hybrid slowly hovered towards the five hapless souls standing before it. It analysed each one in turn, its heavy eyes falling lastly on Serge, the bane of its existence, the being who had called it forth time and again, the being destined to bring HER back. It could not let that happen. And it knew that it wouldn't. As it eyed the opponents it faced, it knew enough to take out the weakest ones first. Starting with what was left of HER. Kid noticed its intentions, but only too late.

The creature opened its mouth and a heavy gust of air shot straight in Kid's direction, sending her flying several feet into the air. Unconscious on landing, her fight was quickly over as she skidded across the roof, kicking up dust as she rolled. That was the last chance the creature would have for surprise, however, as Guile was quick to slam the base of his staff into the roof on which he stood, placing a heavy magical seal over the entire area. This admittedly crippled the creature, but it left the battle to be decided by brute force alone. The mage had sacrificed his own power to help his comrades. Admirable, the creature noted, but ultimately stupid. The creature, now facing three fighters rushing at him, quickly escaped to the air. Guile hung back, attempting to tend to Kid. The creature swooped down low over Serge, Glenn, and Orlha, blowing them all off their feet. The creature drove straight towards Guile, who quickly grabbed Kid and dove aside. Guile stood up, watching the creature's head as it continued away from him, but he did not notice the creature's tail trailing far behind its body.

Guile was struck across the back of the head and sent barrelling forward, the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death the fact that he had rolled up against one of the few pillars scattered about the rim of the high plateau. There was a crack of bone and sinew as Guile's body hit the pillar at high speed, sending a chill through the spines of his remaining three comrades, though seeing that Guile had not fallen off the roof entirely offered them some hope. As Serge, Glenn, and Orlha each regained their footing, the creature swooped overhead again, once more swooping low and blowing the three off their feet. The creature knew who was next. It wanted to leave the Arbiter for dessert.

Orlha helped Glenn to his feet and the two looked up overhead, to where the creature had begun circling over them like a vulture around a pending feast of carrion. Serge, now blown all the way to the opposite side of the roof, also watched the creature's idle machinations. The creature suddenly lowered its altitude significantly, flying at eye level around the outside of the roof. Glenn turned to Orlha, swords drawn. "We have a better chance as a group," he said. "We need to get across the roof and reach Serge quickly." Orlha simply nodded her agreement and the two turned their backs to the creature, floating past the side of the roof closest them, as they ran side by side towards Serge. Serge, however, was not so patient as to wait for their arrival from the distant edges of the roof, and leapt around in the air as the creature occasionally abandoned its usual route around the outside of the roof and passed directly over Serge's head in a teasing manner.

As Glenn and Orlha, constantly having to adjust their trajectory to fit Serge's errant wanderings about the rooftop, finally reached a spot near the centre of the circular roof, Serge just barely managed to cut the creature's underbelly by flailing wildly as he jumped. The creature wavered in its circling, leaving Orlha and Glenn complacent in the knowledge that an attack would not come so soon after the creature had suffered a blow. This is exactly what it had planned, and so, when it burst towards the two of them, now stranded in the middle of the roof without cover or aid, neither had fully believed it was really happening. The creature opened its gaping mouth as it flew towards them. Orlha soon suffered a sudden further shock as she felt Glenn's arms wrap tightly around her waist and swing her around, out of the path of the incoming creature. Then it hit them.

The creature tilted its head and snapped its jaw shut before swinging its snout at them. Glenn's body absorbed the brunt of the attack, but both warriors were sent flying through the air. As they hit the ground, Orlha could feel the cushioning effect of Glenn's body beneath her. She could hear scraping metal as Glenn continued to skid along the roof, his armour dragging on the ground. After they had finally stopped, Orlha rolled off of Glenn's now limp body, struggling to her feet completely dishevelled. She limped her way to the nearby edge of the roof, where she leaned against one of the stone pillars that occasionally cropped up around the rooftop's precipice. Turning around, Orlha could see the creature rush towards her, attempting to follow up on its initial attack. Orlha, still slightly dazed, dove to the ground and narrowly dodged contact with the creature's bulky frame.

Once more fully aware, Orlha leapt to her feet and turned to face the creature, now cutting a wide arc through the air as it turned back towards her. Orlha set off running in the direction she knew the creature would have to approach from, given its massive turning radius. As the creature finished turning and began its approach, it opened its mouth wide and shot forward in a burst of speed. As it met Orlha coming the other way near the centre of the rooftop, the creature lunged forward, attempting to trap Orlha within its massive jaws. As the creature gnashed at her, Orlha jumped into the air, her open palm slamming down onto the creature's closing snout as she cartwheeled over the creature's deadly strike. Acrobatically vaulting down the length of its back in a series of masterful flips, Orlha leapt from the middle of the creature's tail and back down to the ground. The creature simply continued forward, unable to redirect its weight quickly enough, and again began the arduous process of turning itself around in the air beyond the rooftop.

By this time, Serge had taken note of the situation and was at Glenn's side, attempting to drag the unconscious man out of harm's way. Orlha attempted to run the long length of the rooftop as soon as she noticed the creature line itself up with Serge. Dashing towards Serge, Orlha was not fast enough to warn him, and the creature tossed the young man aside with a swipe from its snout. As Serge was sent tumbling across the roof, Orlha skidded to a halt, now taking notice of the creature's attempts to mildly redirect itself in an effort to line itself up with her without sacrificing the speed it had built up. Turning and running from the creature, Orlha was hardly fast enough to keep the creature from catching up with her, and as she neared the edge of the roof, the creature prepared to strike.

Just then, Orlha leapt straight into the air, her momentum carrying her forwards but her upwards thrust carrying her slightly to one side, and she spun her leg around in a swift kick. As her foot connected with the side of the creature's upper jaw, she saw it waver in its flight path. The creature, its balance severely compromised by Orlha's attack, wavered, snaking back and forth in an effort to keep up speed. With its eye fully turned inside its head, it looked back at its tail and took aim. Just as Orlha stood up from her rough landing, the creature's winding tail swung back towards her and caught her on the shoulder, sending her rolling across the roof. After almost colliding with Glenn's still form, Orlha clutched at the stones beneath her with her hands, ending her roll and creating enough friction to keep her from plunging off of the edge of the roof. On her hands and knees, the breath knocked out of her, Orlha barely managed to keep her eyes open as she looked up, expecting to see the creature flinging Serge's limp body from the tower. The thought tore her up inside, but her body seemed unable to do anything at this point except think.

Looking up, Orlha saw Serge had reawakened and was now scarcely holding his ground, only just being able to dodge the creature's swooping attacks. Orlha tried to get to her feet but failed, collapsing back on the ground. She clutched her precious blue gem to her heart, but felt nothing. Something was terribly wrong. Where were her parents? Her sister? Had she not done her best? Didn't she still deserve their help? With their help, maybe.... But no, nothing happened. Orlha simply stared at the blue gem in her hand, the hope draining from her heart. They were gone. There was seemingly nothing she could do to bring them back. She had tried so hard. She had started to live by what they'd taught her. Every moment of every day, she had remembered them. She wouldn't let them disappear. Not now, when she needed them the most.

Orlha again clutched the gem tightly to her chest and shut her eyes, imagining her sister, and how peaceful she had looked before she'd died. Imagining the brief moments they had had to speak to each other, and her sister's soothing voice. Soon, she could feel something. It wasn't Tia, but it was something. And it was growing. Orlha could feel it welling up inside her, and she felt herself rise to her feet, her eyes still closed. Through the void in her mind she could make out the faint sound of metal scraping across the smooth stones of the rooftop. No, it wasn't from the battle. It was closer. She opened her eyes, and what she saw shocked her enough to cause her weak body to gasp. There before her, on one knee and leaning heavily on both his swords, was Glenn, moments ago totally unconscious, now struggling to his feet.

As he slowly stood up, the sensation from her brooch grew and grew, until Orlha was afraid she would faint from the overwhelming power of it. Yet, when she tried to move, she found she could not. Nothing in her entire body responded but her eyes. She could only watch, and hope. Glenn, hefting the Einlanzers in an intimidating manner, could feel the sudden power rising in him. It had hit him suddenly, waking him from his slumber, but it was as if the swords were speaking to him. Then he had risen slowly, only to find the swords weren't speaking to him, but rather his body was speaking to them. They responded to his thoughts, moving about as if they were an extension of his own limbs. As this new feeling grew within him, filling him with strength, he finally noticed Serge, now nearly at the mercy of the horrible creature. Glenn briefly glimpsed memories from his past: tournaments, training sessions, and battles alongside Serge, where he himself had been at the mercy of his foe. It did not happen often, but Glenn could remember it. Glenn could also remember that he owed the creature a debt of pain.

Another thought floated through Glenn's mind, that of the day his brother, his real brother, had spoken to him through the swords, and he had accepted his destiny the same way Serge now confronted his own. The memory quickly faded, but one image seemed to stick with him as he ran screaming towards the vile creature: that of himself, wrapping his hand around Orlha's as she clutched her precious blue stone to her chest. Glenn continued running, ever picking up speed, as Orlha continued watching, still unable to move despite the fact that the waves of heat and excitement forcing their way to the surface of her body were like nothing she'd ever felt. Orlha felt ready to explode as she watched Glenn leap high into the air over the unsuspecting creature.

Why had it not felt this surge in power? The Arbiter had distracted it. It had barely held its ground against the Arbiter alone. Now, with this incorrigible knight gaining such close proximity right under its very nose, it feared the worst for the battle's end. As Glenn came down atop the creature's head he slammed the sword in his left hand straight down into the creature, right up to the hilt. With the creature's blood spraying up into Glenn's face and coursing lengthwise down its own back along the grooves in its spine, the creature itself soon began thrashing violently. Glenn gripped the deeply rooted blade, barely holding on. As the creature's thrashing eased, Glenn leapt off of the top of its head, leaving his sword firmly planted inside the creature. The sword was causing the creature no end of pain. Every movement caused a rush of agony through its entire body, and the creature knew this would have to end soon.

The creature rose into the air, once again swooping down in an attempt to dive headfirst right into Glenn. Glenn wondered how the creature possibly could have survived so long, using a single method of attack over and over. He soon found out. Glenn braced himself for the inevitable blow over, only to watch as the creature turned its entire body in mid dive. In no position to dodge the coming attack, Glenn simply gambled, and leapt. The creature's tail came swinging around full tilt in a devastating strike, but Glenn managed to grab hold of the tail as the armour over his torso blunted the worst of the blow. Hurt but now hanging from the end of the creature's tail, Glenn struggled against his lack of breath and the pounding in his head to bring his remaining blade down upon the creature's tail. His gamble paid off as the Einlanzer cut cleanly through the entire width of the tail, sending Glenn tumbling back down to the roof with the entire massive tip of the creature's tail cradled in his arms.

Just moments after the creature had realised that the truant knight had successfully attached himself to the end of its tail, it had felt a shattering pain which, combined with the burning from the holy blade still firmly stuck in its head, left the creature dazed and disoriented. The creature began thrashing about blindly, hoping that one of its errant attacks might strike a target. Its aimless spinning was uncontrollable, but it knew this was better than nothing. Orlha, still standing near the edge of the roof and still unable to move no matter how hard she tried, had quickly become aware that the spinning creature would eventually hit her. Its pattern, while unusual, was still subject to the rules of momentum. It would be mere moments now, before she was flung from the roof by the creature, falling thousands of feet to her death in the sea below. Never in her life had she stared death so starkly in the face, yet never had she known her body to be so calm. She could still feel the spirit in the gem boiling inside her, pulsing like the flow of her blood. She knew that, come the worst, she'd find somewhere better, just as her family had. Yet, when she tried to think of someplace better in an attempt to remain calm, her thoughts invariably drew her back to...here.

Glenn could feel it again, his body speaking to his sword. As he gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands, he closed his eyes, feeling control of his body momentarily slip away. When he opened his eyes once more, Glenn found himself soaring through the air towards the creature as it spun uncontrollably towards Orlha. Glenn couldn't recall running, or jumping, or even bringing the blade back behind his head, but the air blowing through his hair told him it was not the time to ask questions. Glenn pulled his blade forwards into the creature as he came crashing down, his feet shattering the ground on which they landed. Glenn managed to catch the creature at a wing root, his sword opening a massive wound down the side of the creature's abdomen, all the way from its back to its pale underbelly. The creature, thrown off balance by this brutal attack, rotated onto its side as it crashed into the roof. Sending a thick stream of blood arching through the air as it spun, the creature skidded to a halt just as it brushed up against Orlha's toes.

Orlha watched silently as Glenn slowly approached, blood running down his face and limbs. His or the creature's she wasn't sure, but she wanted to, no, was being compelled to run straight to him and check if he was all right. Yet still she couldn't move no matter how hard she tried. Glenn noticed this too, approaching now at a light jog. In an effort to lose some excess baggage Glenn casually tossed aside his remaining sword, but with this Orlha felt the breath leave her body. Her legs failed, no longer able to support her. Her arms went limp, and the gem fell from her hand to the ground at her feet. Slowly, she began leaning back. Glenn was now running as fast as he could in an attempt to catch her before she could lean all the way back and plummet from the tower to the sea below. Glenn wasn't fast enough, and Orlha soon found herself falling away from consciousness just as she fell away from the building. She felt as if she were floating, before suddenly being jolted back to reality.

Glenn's strength had left him as he had watched Orlha fall from the rooftop. He hadn't felt anything except a fierce desire to keep her from falling. Now his legs gave out underneath him and he fell to his hands and knees. Fargo, Karsh, Kid; he had failed so many today, and he knew that could not be forgiven, but this...this.... Glenn slowly lifted his head as a familiar sound reached his ears. It was a man's laugh. Korcha's flimsy ferry floated before his eyes alongside the tower's peak. In it stood Marcy, Zoah, and Karsh, three friends he had thought lost forever in the depths of the tower. Alongside them was Fargo, looking quite well and in one piece. In his arms he held a bewildered Orlha. Glenn felt relief wash over him as he saw many of the friends he had presumed dead only moments ago standing before his eyes.

The relief increased, however, as he watched Fargo place Orlha back on her feet. She hopped out of the boat and began a steady walk towards him as if she had just woken from a peaceful slumber. With this, he fell forward and fainted, landing flat on his face. As the tower crumbled around them, injured friends and discarded wares were quickly gathered and rushed to the safety of the nearby boat, Glenn slung over Zoah's shoulder the entire trip down to the ground.

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And so, that night on the S.S. Invincible, there was held a party the likes of which had not been seen in Arni Village's harbour in a long, long, long time. Yet amidst the festivities one soul was strangely absent. Kid had long since recovered from her wounds, her amulet attending to that matter. Guile had never felt better, though it was less to do with the day's victory than the night's events. Serge danced the night away with the best of them, despite not saying a word the whole time. While Fargo and the Devas scattered themselves about the festivities, Orlha made her presence known by besting Fargo's entire crew at shots.

It was Glenn, the bronze plated dragoon, who was strangely absent from the list of partygoers. Yet there he stood, on the silent upper deck of the S.S. Invincible, dutifully patrolling the length of the ship. After all, Glenn knew as well as anyone that the ship could not just be left untended. Danger was always about. The Invincible's crew, however, did not deserve to miss a moment of this. They had cut their own food rations, billeted out their own bunks, in order to make Serge's stay, and by extension that of himself and many others, as comfortable as possible. This was their night, even though Glenn could hear Orlha drinking them under the table from where he stood.

It was after the din had settled down, through the thick darkness of the El Nido night, that Glenn caught sight of a strange figure emerging from below decks. Perhaps his replacement, but he doubted that. No one would be well enough to replace him this early, and no one would still be awake this late. Having come from below-deck he knew they weren't hostile, but having to subdue a pirate with a gizzard full of Dragon's Glory was time consuming at the very least.

The figure gradually faded into focus, revealing a well-curved silhouette. Glenn's eyes went wide with surprise. He would never have thought he'd see a woman walking about the decks this late. He quickly rushed over, catching the woman just as she was about fall to the deck. Glenn managed to get the young woman upright, only to realise he'd been helping a severely inebriated Orlha. The blonde haired barmaid came into further focus, and it was obvious to Glenn she had no clue what was going on. Orlha opened her mouth but could only manage one word before she fainted in Glenn's arms. "Tia."

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Orlha woke slowly, batting her eyes a few times to try and get a better view of her surroundings. She looked around the bedroom, still dark, then over to the window, where she noticed it had been hastily boarded over, thin rays of sunlight barely poking through the cracks in the work. She then caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked over to the door, where she saw a small crack in the doorway disappear just as quickly as it had appeared. Fearing the worst, and quickly becoming aware that she lay in bed wearing nothing but a thin frock, Orlha searched over the room for her clothes, a weapon, anything.

As she scoured the room, Orlha attempted to recollect the events of the previous night, causing her head to reel. She couldn't recognise any of her surroundings, and she found nothing of any use about the room itself. All she saw was her blue gem brooch sitting at the foot of the bed, just out of reach of her toes. Orlha took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. At least the gem was still with her. Also, she realised that her best and only weapons had always been her solid limbs. Her first task, she felt, was to find some clothing. In the meantime, she would have to settle for the frock now wrapped around her. Slowly, silently, she grabbed her brooch and crept towards the door.

As she took up a spot behind the door, Orlha saw the door open a crack. The person at the door, obviously disconcerted at the fact that he could no longer see her in the bed, opened the door a bit wider. Orlha struck, kicking the door closed with as much force as she could muster. She heard a satisfying crack as the door clobbered the face of whoever was opening it. She swung the door all the way open, prepared to beat her captor to a bloody pulp. Instead, what greeted her was...

"Glenn?!" Orlha exclaimed. Glenn staggered backwards into the hall, one hand clutching his nose and the other one held up so that his buckler would shield his face. Orlha quickly ushered Glenn into the room and sat him down on the bed, lifting his arm away from his face to see how much damage she'd done. After looking him over, she heaved a sigh of relief. "Nothing bleeding or broken. What in the world are you doing to me?! Why am I in here?!"

"I brought you here to spend the night," was his reply. "You had fallen asleep on the deck and I did not know what else to do."

"You might have taken me back to my room," Orlha said, as if it were blindingly obvious.

"Your room was in a busy area of the ship. I believed that the crew going about their daily business would have assuredly woken you early this morning. After guessing at how much you drank and checking at what time you approached me on the deck, I believed you would need more sleep than that. I also boarded over the window to prevent the light from waking you. I hope that was all right."

"It's fine, it's fine. But...why were you standing outside my door and peeking in on me?"

Glenn quickly turned a pale shade of red as his eyes darted to the door, away from Orlha's glare. "I wasn't peeking. I was making sure you weren't becoming ill, or worse."

"And you had to stand outside to do that?"

"There were many people coming to call on you. In the interests of letting you sleep, I stood at the door and handled any appointments that you had," Glenn replied.

"Appointments? I never have appointments."

"Actually, there were a number of crewmen here to see you in order to pay their outstanding bets from last night's drinking contest. I have your money right here." Glenn quickly snatched a small leather bag from around his belt and offered it to Orlha. It jingled as she took it from him, and felt heavy with coins. Orlha was stunned. Never before had someone even helped her get home after a hard night of drinking, let alone watched over her like this.

"You'll have to excuse me," interrupted Glenn, "but I have an urgent meeting with the General at the moment. Then I fear that I myself am in dire need of some sleep. Fargo says that you are free to use this room until you're well enough to move back to your own, and that he wants to challenge you personally next time you're available. He said you would know what this meant." Glenn rose from the bed and turned to leave. As he was partway out the door, however, Orlha's voice made him stop.

"Glenn?"

"Yes."

"Why…all of this?" Orlha asked.

"Why what?" Glenn replied, completely clueless.

"This?" Orlha echoed, motioning to the room around her, and finally towards the sack of gold in her hand. Glenn suddenly donned an appearance of realisation as Orlha finished waving her arms around, and softly chuckled to himself before responding.

"What a silly question. A dragoon such as myself would never be so petty as to steal such a paltry sum of gold." Orlha sat silent on the bed, dumbfounded. Glenn, still smiling, simply exited the room and shut the door behind him before Orlha could grill him further. Outside the room, the smile soon faded from Glenn's lips as he stumbled towards General Viper's temporary study in a sleepless daze. Glenn was only anxious for the moment when he himself could sleep.

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As Glenn stumbled into his room, luckily enough entirely his own, he failed to notice a faint blue glimmer in the corner of his cabin. Glenn, despite his weary state, carefully removed all of his armour and laid it out on his bed in a pristine manner, just as he always had, taking a moment to stare at it in quiet contemplation before tossing his shirt into a basket near the door. Grabbing a bed sheet from a nearby coat hook, Glenn set his exhausted body down on the floor. As fast as his head hit the floor, Glenn was asleep, his armour still sitting serenely on the bed.

As she watched him from a dark corner of his room, she was astonished when he placed his frame down on the cold, hard floor, leaving his armour to rest on the bed beside him. Yet she knew what it was now. When he had passed her in the hall, she had felt a surge from her brooch. As he drew closer, it swelled, and as he passed, it faded, as if nothing had even happened. This time she was sure of it. After a number of hours, just standing in the corner and staring at him sleeping on the floor, Orlha moved towards the bed. Slowly, carefully, she began transferring Glenn's armour from atop the bed to a spot on the floor by the door. Glenn continued to sleep soundly the whole time until, much to her chagrin, Orlha tripped over Glenn's foot and dropped the piece of armour she carried, filling the room with a loud crash. Before she could curse her clumsiness, Glenn was sitting up straight, his hand groping for a non-existent sword hanging from his waist before his eyes were even fully opened.

As he regained his composure, Glenn noticed Orlha standing over him, unabashedly watching him as he rose from the floor. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?" Glenn asked, but then noticed his armour sitting on the floor in front of the door instead of on the bed where he'd left it. "What are you doing? My armour will get full of scratches and dents if I leave it on the floor." Glenn stepped around Orlha and picked up the nearest piece of his armour, turning around to take it back to its usual place. He stopped when Orlha moved into his path, blocking him from the bed.

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As Orlha settled down on top of him, straddling him with her muscular legs and easily stifling any movement on his part, Glenn was reluctant to ask what was going on. He knew well enough, but there were a few things he still had to sort out. "Why?" he asked, innocently enough. Orlha's only response was to raise his hand in hers to the sapphire hanging around her neck. As she closed Glenn's fingers around the brooch, she leaned forward and kissed him. At that moment, Glenn was filled with a familiar sensation, but on a much more physical level. Glenn had felt this atop Terra Tower, his body extending to encompass his swords. Now, however, he could feel his body encompassing another person, a person he'd come to care for, and he could now feel their hearts beating in rhythm, the heat of their bodies mixing and floating out to the rest of the room. Yet, as Orlha released his hand and he drew it away from the brooch, the feeling did not subside. In fact, it only began to increase as Orlha laid her body down atop his.

Glenn could feel the weight of her body on top of his own, and he could hear the pounding of Orlha's heart in his head. He now knew that this is what he'd truly felt atop the tower. Not a need to save her, not a desire to catch her. Just her. Their bodies, souls, spirits moving in unison. Glenn had felt it then, and could feel it now, and he had no desire to end it. So he let the moment take control. As the two entangled bodies rolled over in the bed, placing Glenn atop Orlha, Orlha threw the brooch away, ignoring the loud crash it made as it hit the far wall of the room and fell to the floor. What she felt now was more than the brooch had ever given her, and it was that same feeling that had held her in place on Terra Tower. Not her parents, not her sister, but him. She hadn't realised it was him all along. That it took her so long to figure it out still made her ashamed. At least now her earlier lapses in judgement could be forgiven. He was very forgiving. As the two sat up in the bed, she kissed him, kissed his neck, his chest, working her lips down across the front of his body until she felt his calloused hands undoing the clasp around the neck of her dress. Glenn slipped his hands under the rough material of Orlha's dress and began rubbing softly up and down over her sensitive shoulders as he took her mouth with his once more.

Glenn slowly backed off and lowered his mouth to her ear. "Orlha…" Glenn whispered, his breath wet and warm against her neck, "You don't have to do this." She looked up into Glenn's eyes, trapped within the deep blue pools that had lost none of their innocence or beauty. Her look, one of lustful anticipation, was enough of an answer for him, and he slowly continued, softly kissing her shoulders as he pulled her dress down over them. Orlha brought her arms to her side and allowed Glenn to continue pulling the top of the dress down, running his fingers down her arms as he exposed her body to the heat that now filled the room. Glenn released her arms and began running his fingers through Orlha's long blonde hair, cupping the back of her head before moving lower to run his hands down her neck. She felt his hands continue slowly down her chest, gently caressing every curve of her body. Orlha couldn't help but release a small moan of pleasure as Glenn's rough hands began softly caressing her breasts, and she felt his cautious and inexperienced touch continue lower as his mouth again met hers. Orlha wrapped her legs around Glenn's waist, pulling him tightly into her body, pressing his skin deep into her own until she could feel the scars that scattered his bare skin pressing into her flesh.

As Orlha ran her fingers through Glenn's hair, her fingers struck an unusual obstacle. Groping further, Orlha soon concluded that she had run across Glenn's ever-present headband. She giggled softly, partly from the thought of Glenn steadfastly wearing his headband and partly from Glenn's inquisitive lips, now planting kisses up and down her taut stomach. Orlha continued to giggle as she yanked the headband down over Glenn's eyes, causing him to stop his exploration of Orlha's body and sit up, attempting to remove the headband from his eyes. As Glenn raised his arms to his eyes, however, Orlha suddenly grabbed his wrists and, with a sharp laugh, threw Glenn down to the bed and again climbed on top of him. Glenn's expression, such as could be made out in the darkness of the room, was ripe with confusion as he struggled lightly against Orlha, now pinning him to the bed by the wrists. Glenn abruptly halted his struggled, however, as Orlha, with a quick kiss, made it clear to Glenn that there was no need to be concerned. He could feel Orlha's hands drift away from his wrists, but he made no attempt to remove the headband from his eyes.

Glenn heard a loud thud as something heavy landed on the floor. Glenn could only assume it was Orlha's steel waistband dropping to the floor, so he could not resist peaking from beneath the cloth strip that covered his eyes when he heard an accompanying flutter of cloth pass close by his ear. With one finger allowing an eye to peak out from underneath his headband, Glenn was treated to the sight of Orlha's naked body standing before him at the side of the bed, glistening in the moonlight with the sweat that had accumulated as a result of the night's recreation. Glenn quickly let the headband drop back down over his eye as Orlha dropped her shorts to the floor and turned to face him. "Open your mouth for me," Orlha whispered. Glenn was only too willing to comply, his passion and zealousness quickly overpowering his better sense. So it was with more than a little shock that Glenn felt his mouth stuffed with a thick material, and he almost gagged as the taste of well-worn leather assaulted his tongue.

Once Orlha had finished planting her gloves inside Glenn's mouth, she grabbed him by the wrists before he had a chance to remove them. As his muffled words came streaming out, Orlha simply leaned forward and began nibbling on Glenn's ear, causing the knight to promptly end his smothered pleas. One of Orlha's hands now held both Glenn's wrists behind his head, and Glenn soon felt the other plant itself firmly on his forehead. After pushing Glenn's head down against the bed with one hand, trapping his hands underneath, Orlha set her other hand to work removing Glenn's briefs. Glenn, feeling his pants sliding down his legs, squirmed as he felt the dry air of the room hit the rarely exposed skin around his upper thighs. The bed began to squeak beneath them as Orlha rocked back and forth atop Glenn, slowly at first but gradually speeding up. Glenn could no longer taste the leather in his mouth, nor was he fully aware of the cloth still covering his eyes. Rather, he was overwhelmed with the sensations running through his body.

As Orlha continued to sway back and forth, ever faster, Glenn could hear her breathing reach a fevered pitch, and he suddenly became aware that her grip on his head had all but disappeared. Fearing a failure to make the most of this opportunity, Glenn's hands shot out to Orlha's body, caressing every inch that they could reach as Glenn fought desperately to saturate these last moments with as much sensation as possible. As soon as Glenn felt Orlha's legs begin to clench around his waist once more, one of Glenn's hands shot back to his face, tearing the headband from his eyes. He looked up just in time to see Orlha's buxom chest, now brilliantly lit by the glowing moonlight reflecting off of her moist skin, arc towards him as she hissed out his name with what seemed to be her last breath. Glenn suddenly felt every muscle in Orlha's body tense up simultaneously. His vision became hazy as he felt his pleasure reach its peak, and he had to bite hard into Orlha's gloves, still in his mouth, to keep from screaming.

As the moons reached their peak over the empty night sky, the white moon's bright, full light drowning out that of the surrounding stars, Orlha wrapped herself in Glenn's arms, content to spend what was left of the night sleeping beside her noble dragoon. Glenn, still enamored with the blonde barmaid, simply lay alongside her, wrapping her tightly to shield her from the encroaching cold. The whole night he could only watch her, taking in her very essence with every breath. Yet, despite Glenn's most ardent wishes, the morning eventually arrived.

------------------------

As Glenn emerged onto the deck of the S.S. Invincible, the sounds of clashing metal and rustling cloth were quick to fill his ears. He looked out upon his fellow dragoons, deep in training. He regretted leaving before Orlha had awoken, but he had been so caught up in waiting for her to stir he had not realised how late he already was for the day's training. With his ever-increasing responsibilities, he was called upon as an example to the troops, and needed to set an appropriate act for them to follow.

General Viper turned from observing the training efforts of his army and looked towards the sudden motion at the deck's entrance he'd spotted. Catching Glenn in the act of attempting to nonchalantly waltz into the mass of dragoons, his tardiness going largely unnoticed, Viper let slip a tiny smirk. "Glenn!" The knight stopped dead in his tracks, hesitant to turn and face reprimand. Turn he did, though, and he greeted the General with a smart salute before joining him on the outskirts of the deck.

"Yes, Lord Viper?" A response was long in coming to Glenn's inquiry, as Viper took the opportunity of his close proximity to the young man to earnestly study his face. Viper knew this face from his past, and was not about to let slip an opportunity to once again jostle one of Garai's children.

"I'll be the one to ask questions, Glenn," said Viper, "though judging by the expression on your face I should have no need to." Glenn was silent, a small bead of sweat forming on his brow as he fretted over what the General had in store. Viper noticed Glenn's obvious anxiety over the confrontation and again recognised the look, a reaction he had fully expected. Indeed, Glenn was as much like his brother as Karsh had often boasted. "No need to worry, Glenn, I'm not about to punish you."

Glenn interjected. "Sir, if I am to be an example for the other dragoons you must punish me. To show favourites would be—"

"Glenn," Viper continued, "I am allowed to make exceptions for valid excuses, and yours is certainly valid. I can see in your face the same look Dario adopted in the days before asking for Riddel's hand in marriage. I know not who she is, but the fact that you even pulled yourself from her to come here is already a testament to your dedication to the dragoons. You should return to her and rest, if only for today. I believe Serge will need your full strength at his disposal very soon." Glenn did not protest, but rather took Viper's words to heart, as he had done so many times in the past. Glenn then turned to re-enter the bowels of the ship, something he had wished to do anyway.

------------------------

Here they were. Everything had culminated in this final battle, this last heroic action of El Nido's motley crew. Lavos' new incarnation stood before them, the young woman known as Schala trapped within. With only their wits and their weapons, Serge had led them here, following the path his heart laid before him and trusting his fate to the Chrono Cross he now held in his hand. The Omegas had quickly come flying towards them: Yellow, Red, Green, Blue, Black and White. Glenn and Orlha, accompanying Serge to this desolate wasteland of Time, had arrived in a state of agreement. Of one heart and one mind, they had known that the protection of Serge and the Chrono Cross he carried was more important than anything they themselves had ever held dear. Unfortunately for Orlha, this included each other.

Glenn had sucker punched her as soon as she had turned her back to him, and pushed her aside in order to face the brunt of the attacks on his own. He now lay lifeless at her feet as Serge wracked his brain in an effort to find the answer to the Chrono Cross' eternal riddle. Orlha had known this would happen eventually, that death would find one of them sooner or later, but to watch Glenn torn apart like a rag doll before her eyes had almost overwhelmed her. Luckily, her blue gem had once again come to her rescue, filling her with the strength to overcome and stand back up, stand her ground, and hold out for the hope of the future.

Serge had managed to solve the first part of the riddle, the sounds of the elements ringing in his ear in an endless loop. He had found the melody, now he simply needed the crescendo that would bring the full potential of the Chrono Cross to light. Yet he could not find it, no matter how hard he tried. Not only that, the melody had grown louder. He knew the Time Devourer could hear it too, and it stirred in its shell, preparing something. Perhaps it, too, could use the harmony and melody of the elements to release an unknown devastation upon the world. Serge knew he had to do something, and fast. The attack was not long in coming, and one only had to look to see the dark energy building up before the Devourer, bits and pieces sucked from places long gone and not yet arrived, stolen from the threads of Time to feed its own desire for carnage.

Orlha could stand it no longer. Melody or no, Serge needed more time. If she could just interrupt the creature's flow of energy, she could dissipate the attack, giving Serge even just a few badly needed moments. She needed to summon all of her courage, and she knew where her courage had always laid: in the hearts of the ones she loved. Orlha tore her brooch from its place around her neck and held it tightly in her hand as she rushed towards the creature. As she ran for what seemed forever, the brooch began to glow. Orlha could feel her sister again, and her parents. She could also feel that ever-elusive spirit that would occasionally grace her soul, feeding her power, and she found herself briefly wondering where it might have come from, and why it still filled her even though Glenn had been brutally murdered at the hands of this monster.

Filled with a sudden, overwhelming rage, Orlha thrust her arm forward, her fist penetrating to the very heart of the built-up energy cascading in front of the Devourer. The brooch soon began to glow with a light she'd never seen before. It was a bright red, as if it had regained its former Dreamstone lustre. The ground beneath her began shaking. The energy before her began dissipating slowly, but it wasn't enough. That attack continued cumulating faster than Orlha could deplete it. Serge was in trouble. Serge was in need of help. Serge also happened to be stricken with shock, seeing what he had just seen.

Behind Orlha, a familiar sound of thick boots thudding towards her filled her with both fear and fervour, anxious about what she might see should she turn her head. There was no need to turn around, though, as Glenn was soon in the air above her, stabbing both Einlanzers down into the fray of energy. The swords also had begun to glow a deep crimson, a reminder of their ancient origin. Orlha had no time to question where he had come from, how he had regained his consciousness, or his life, she could only think about one thing, and that was victory. Here. Now. Forever.

As Serge watched this scene unfold, still stricken with disbelief, he felt a tingling sensation in the arm that held the Chrono Cross. He looked down, only to see tiny rainbow coloured strands of light slowly creeping down the length of his arm. Then it hit him like a sack of bricks. He could see Glenn and Orlha also glowed faintly with traces of the rainbow light, and he was sure. The answer, no, the riddle itself, was love, the love of one person for another, be they friends or family, the love of Nature shared by so many, and the love of providing hope for the future, something they were all fighting desperately for. He remembered now, Harle's ramblings that had seemed so out of place at the time.

"Je T'aime, mon Serge. Pleaze, dream of moi."

Then he recalled what, after rescuing Kid from the recesses of her own memories, Radius had once said. "This must be the power of Serge's love. Hoh-hoh-hoh!"

Finally, he remembered a promise he had once made to a sweet country gal back home, a promise he could never have made if his heart had not been filled with hope for the future, and a promise he could not keep if he failed in this place. He concentrated hard on the ones he loved, on the many friends that had found him on his journey, on all of the times someone had watched over him from near or afar, and he could feel it. He had tapped into the Chrono Cross' true power. With that, the crescendo arrived. As the chord played over and over, encompassing them all in a comforting warm light, the Time Devourer shrieked in pain, squirming in agony. As the capsule sitting in the Devourer's crown burst, the shards scattered across the shoulders of Glenn and Orlha, still pouring all of their energy into their assault.

Schala floated softly towards Serge, her eyes still closed, as a bright light slowly encompassed Glenn, Orlha, and the Time Devourer. Serge was so distracted by the melody in his ears and the girl that had been freed from her prison that he failed to realise others were not so lucky. As the light surrounding the Time Devourer faded, revealing the monster's transformation to dust, Serge finally noticed Glenn and Orlha lying at the base of the fast-disappearing form of the Time Devourer. Both were motionless, awkwardly sprawled on the ground. Serge knew the worst was over, and the joy he felt could not, at the time, allow his thoughts to dwell on the ultimate cruelty of it all.

------------------------

With this, Serge was released from his role as Arbiter. The two worlds were re-woven into one, and all but Serge had had their memories ripped from them. His partner, Kid, had vanished, as had his other companions, scattered to their homes like seeds to the wind. Serge felt sad knowing that they would not remember what they did, for him and for the world, but he felt happy that someday, somewhere, he would meet them all again. Maybe he could remind them. Or maybe, they would just know.

Inside a small tavern on the secluded island paradise of Guldove, a voluptuous blonde woman sat atop the counter where, on any other given day, she would be serving drinks. But today was a holy day for the demi-humans, and she rarely received any other customers, so she knew she'd have the whole day to herself.

It had been just over a week since Doc had released her with a bill of clean health. She'd been out cold for a week, he'd said. Apparently she'd just been serving drinks like any other day when she'd collapsed. They'd found her clutching a blue brooch. She looked at the sapphire in her hand, still complete. She wondered why something about this stone felt wrong, and yet it filled her with satisfaction every time she held it to her chest.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from the nearby docks. She hopped to her feet. Rushing out the door, she shielded her eyes from the bright sun and stared in the direction of the docks. What she could barely make out were three figures, tumbling about inside a small boat. Orlha held up her hand again in another vain attempt to shield her eyes from the sun, but still she could only make out three silhouettes, all obviously men.

She approached cautiously, fearing an arrival of troops from Porre. She balled her other hand into a tight fist, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The three turned to face her and she knew she'd been spotted, yet none made any movement in her direction. One, the tallest of the three, appeared to almost shine in places. He gripped the hilt of a sword hanging around his waist with a free hand. This one began to wave at her.

"Excuse me, Miss! Excuse me!" Glenn jogged over to the blonde woman watching the three dragoons. He introduced himself and tried to explain. "We are here to begin recruiting for the new demi-human platoons scheduled to begin training at Viper Manor in a matter of weeks. We're rather behind schedule, and I was wondering if you might aid us in acclimatizing to our new surroundings."

"Sure," replied Orlha, caught off guard by the young man's upright demeanour and clean-cut language. She had been so worked up over the new arrival, though, she quickly realised that she had left her treasured blue brooch inside the tavern. "I'll be right back, all right?"

"Of course. We will stay here and continue unloading our belongings. I and the Acacia Dragoons thank you deeply."

Inside her tavern, Orlha's treasured blue brooch began to take on a deeper hue, as it ever so slightly glowed with a pale blue light. The inscription on the brooch, until now reading 'Orlha and Tia Forever', gradually began to fade as the glow continued.

Fin

Author's Notes: All reviews, if any, are welcomed but Flames especially are encouraged. No, really. I'm serious.


	2. The Man in the Iron Mask

As Serge emerged from the tightly sealed room atop Fort Dragonia, fully clothed and looking much more like himself, all that could be heard were the exclamations of his comrades. "Serge!" they both cried in disbelief. True, they had mostly known the young man from Arni as a towering demi-human, formerly known on El Nido as the mysterious and unapproachable Lynx. What followed was a never-ending lesson in pain and futility, until finally the dragons had intervened, and with their guidance Serge sought out the Dragon Tear, the only thing left that could return his soul to its former vessel.

Now, here he was, standing before two of the many friends he had procured along the way, a blonde man hailing from the mainland by the name of Norris, and the silver-haired shrine maiden known only as Steena, the person responsible for lending him the now shattered Dragon Tear. After the initial shock of seeing Serge whole once again, Steena looked down to the contents of Serge's left hand. Serge followed her eyes and caught sight of what remained of Guldove's treasure, now a shard and shadow of its former self.

He held it up to Steena with an apologetic look, hoping to garner some forgiveness from the woman whose most prized possession he had destroyed for his own benefit. She simply smiled, however, and said, "It is no surprise it shattered as it did. But you also carry with you the broken Dragon Tear of another world, and perhaps they together hold the secret to the undiscovered Chrono Cross. Yet I sense that you still have unfinished business...." Serge simply nodded his agreement.

"Not only must you retrieve the lost souls that followed you before you lost your way, but you feel an obligation to one in particular. A promise you made, and one you wish to keep. And I have a feeling it will lead us back to Guldove." Serge again solemnly nodded.

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"I sense deep sadness beneath that mask of yours…In the near future, you, too, shall find your sanctuary of peace."

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As the silver-haired shrine maiden took her place among the crowded tables in the depths of the massive pirate ship, she pondered why everyone around her had decided to sup at the exact same time. Perhaps it was simply that no one ever left this place. The various pirates and deck hands, weaving in and out of the friends and companions Serge had dragged along, were anxious to eat whatever it was the kitchen had decided to dish out this day. Though Serge's companions, some noble and useful, others simply trailing along like refuse, were all to be complimented on their dedication, she wondered how they could put up with the food. Admittedly she ate very little anyway, but the various decadent gourmet dishes that Guldove had once offered her were certainly easier on her delicate pallet. At this point, she would be willing to trade a week's worth of the meals aboard this ship for but one bowl of fresh fruits.

Steena quickly found she was unable to stomach even the lightest of meals when suffocated among such a crowd, and rose from the table, her plate of food uneaten. The young man seated alongside her was not long in waiting to claim her plate as his own, but only one person in the entire mess took notice. His thoughts on the subject were quickly interrupted. "Yo buddy, where's yer appetite today?" The inquisitive man received no response to his question, so quickly jabbed the friend beside him in the ribs with his elbow. "You still here or what?" Karsh asked.

"Yeah," chimed Marcy, sitting across from the two. "Aren't you the one who always has, like, three servings every meal?" The two now stared at Zoah with cold, hard glares that a passer-by might almost mistake for concern. The masked man simply stood up from the table, food in hand, and glanced at them each in turn before speaking.

"I would prefer to take my mask off while eating today. If you need me, I'll be in my room." With that, the burly brute walked out of the mess, a path seemingly clearing in front of him as he walked. No one was going to stand in the way of a six foot three man with limbs as thick as small tree trunks. His was not an easy task, maintaining the pride and honour of the Acacia Dragoons. He, Karsh, and Marcy were Devas, the three of them honouring everything a dragoon stood for, and Glenn, though the young knight knew it not, would soon be admitted into his brother's former post as the fourth. Until the General felt ready to tell him, however, Zoah would certainly not divulge the secret. Secrets surrounded him on all sides, and he had learned how to keep them.

After quickly disposing of his meal over the side of the ship, Zoah decided to seek out the very person that had grabbed his attention so violently in the mess hall. In fact, what had mattered more than finding her was his desire to keep his mask firmly rooted upon his face. Were he to lift it even slightly in the process of consuming his meal, it is likely his friends and fellow Devas would have spotted the fleeting emotion that had begun to float over his face more and more often these days. Showing any kind of emotion would surely be the harbinger of doom for a man such as him. Thus, the mask was useful. After an entire afternoon of searching for her, Zoah still could not find Steena, so he settled for visiting the captain of the ship in his private quarters. As it so happened, he, the General, and Zappa were enjoying a game of poker. Zoah, invited to join, quickly accepted a seat at their table. Oh yes, the mask was indeed useful.

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As Steena wandered about aimlessly, deep within the bowels of the ship, her heart sank. Something had suddenly pushed its way to the fore of her thoughts, despite her efforts to prevent it. She felt…useless. Like so many other people on this ship, so many useless faces from faraway places. She could not help but giggle at the feeble attempt at prose her mind had unexpectedly spat out. Still, she was stricken both by how little use she had been to Serge since emerging from Fort Dragonia, and by how often she caught herself doing such little things she would never have allowed herself to back in her shrine. Perhaps this is what Direa's spirit had warned her of. Steena knew as well as anyone that the Dragon Tear would shatter, but she had made up her mind to aid Serge and she would not doubt herself now.

Alas, now that the Dragon Tear was gone, she could feel its power, the power that had once kept her steely and emotionless in the face of even the most frightful outcomes life held in store for her, dissipating with every passing day, soon to be all but a memory. She soon caught herself doing such little things as staring at people a little too long where she would normally close her eyes and listen, giggling at the slightest little thing when normally she would never feel any amusement. She also began recalling days she had thought were long forgotten, and people that were once…very close. Then it hit her, the melody that drifted to her ears upon the light sea breeze wafting into the ship. The sound was coming from outside, and was inexplicably drawing her to it.

The mage sat on the staircase leading up to the deck of the ship, whistling as he did. Yet, he did not so much sit on it as float just above it. His long purple braid drifted behind him, fluttering in the wind as the ship moved smoothly through El Nido's vast seas. His staff, floating alongside him, seemed to almost dance to the tune he whistled, and, admiring the rod's beauty as it sparkled in the sun, the mage felt somewhat tempted to remove his gold mask and let his entire face bask in the bright sun. These temptations were quickly stifled as he heard, or rather, felt, someone emerge from the ship somewhere behind him. As he rotated in the air to face the intruder, his face lit up. He was always happy to lay his eyes on a fellow traveller drawn into the ongoing orchestra of Time and Fate they were all now a part of. Many of them drifted aimlessly, each just another note, another chord, but this woman was more like an entire section of strings. "Steena! You're looking well! What brings you this way on such a day as this?"

"Your whistling has led me here…somehow," was the slender woman's reply.

"Recognise the tune from your youth, do you?" Guile asked. Steena's eyes widened with surprise. She could not explain how he had known that. Perhaps no one could. What he said next simply shocked her further. "You seem surprised. You might also be surprised to know that I realised you were standing there listening for several minutes before you revealed yourself to me." Steena barely managed to stammer out a response.

"But…I hid my presence. Not even you could have felt me here!"

"I did not feel you," came the reply, "I saw your reflection in my staff." With a simple gesture of his hand the staff floated dutifully to Guile's side, it's metallic surface shimmering in the sunlight and causing Steena to squint from the reflection. "I'm sure you're filled with questions about my knowledge of that song. Ask away."

"That melody which you were whistling. My…grandmother knew it. She would often sing it to me as a child. In fact, she wrote it."

Now it was Guile's turn to be surprised. "My my, I am in the presence of operatic royalty! The granddaughter of the illustrious and beautiful singer and composer Madame Paterson stands before me! I owe your grandmother a debt of gratitude."

"Why is that, master Guile?"

"Because," was his reply, his tone smacking of self-superiority, "she is responsible for the most wonderful experience I have ever had: that of the premiere showing of her second operetta in which she starred, and sang beautifully I might add."

"How can that be? That was over forty years ago!"

"It seems we have much to learn about each other, Mistress Steena." Then Guile allowed himself the pleasure of a single, solitary utterance that he would never have normally allowed himself to reveal. "She and I were actually a bit of an item back then." Now Steena was thoroughly confused. So many conflicting emotions and explanations drove their way into her head, each less plausible than the last, before she finally realised what had happened. The final remnants of the Dragon Tear's hold on her body floated away upon the wind as Guile's whistling had but moments ago. Now was not a good time to have this happen. As Guile slowly floated down to where the young woman had fainted he could see the blood rushing to her head, her face now beet-red. All he could muster was "Oh my…."

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As Zoah emerged from his room he could not help but feel eager for what the day might bring. Apparently Karsh had found something interesting on a small island in the other world, and had asked both he and Marcy to accompany Lady Riddel to the island. They were scheduled to meet Glenn and Serge there, and so would need to get moving soon if they were to have any chance of catching up. First they had to meet Serge at Opassa Beach and get themselves to the other world. After that, Marcy had errands, and Lady Riddel wished to….

And there, before his thoughts could even reach a satisfying conclusion, was something he later wished he hadn't seen. It was the long-legged shrine maiden that had joined them in Guldove. Steena, he remembered. She had upon her face the same expression he had seen some time before as she emerged from the mess, the almost gruesome pallor of someone who was famished, yet had no appetite for food. It may even be seasickness, he quickly realised. No matter the reason, her pain was tangibly discomforting him, as he had now stopped dead in his tracks to watch the woman slowly drag her feet down the hallway. He was taken aback at her greeting when she had not even raised her head to look at him. "Hello, Zoah."

"Miss Steena, you don't look well. I'll help you to the medical station aboard the ship." She was not anxious to be followed by anyone at the moment, but having not eaten in days she could barely stand, and Zoah was better than any cane.

"No. I'm fine, thank you. Please, just accompany me to my room. I simply need to rest." At this, Zoah felt the tension in his chest relax. Feeling helpless was not something that came easily to him, and he did not like it one bit. Yet helpless is how he had felt after watching this woman seemingly struggle to maintain her existence ever since she had boarded the ship. He quickly hunched over and placed her arm around his shoulders, supporting her as she struggled to walk. He would never let others such as Karsh know it, but he was never one to enjoy the plight of others. In fact it was downright painful for him to watch, as he had found out soon after joining the dragoons. His face had often betrayed how he truly felt when carrying out his duties. For this, others would berate him, and he would often fail to perform the less humane aspects of his job. It got to the point where he even ran away from the dragoons, skipping out on everything he had worked for. From that disappearance emerged a new man.

This new man's size and power left no room for argument, and his mask, buffed to a brilliant shine day after day, never allowed the even the slightest window into his thoughts. This new man rose quickly through the ranks, impressed many superiors, and, before anyone knew it, was a full-fledged Deva. 'Zoah' was the new moniker he had adopted. He'd thoroughly amused himself by naming his alter ego after the legendary giant that had supposedly fallen from the heavens in three pieces. Those pieces are said to have formed the cornerstones of the El Nido Triangle, and were supposedly responsible for the various inexplicable occurrences of the area. As a child, Zoah had loved such stories. Now he was one.

Steena had, by now, fallen into a deep sleep. As Zoah carried Steena into her room and laid her down on her bunk he could not help but feel a little out of place, yet he revelled in his opportunity to aid a fellow soul in pain. That night, the chef Orcha, returned alone from Guldove, and Zoah was quick to spot an opportunity. Steena awoke as her nostrils were assaulted with the sickly sweet scent of a fresh, hot meal sitting just inside her door. In her sleep-induced stupor, a ravished Steena quickly devoured the meal and crawled back under the sheets of her bed, returning once more to the dreamless sleep from whence she came. At the same time, Zoah, in the company of Marcy and Lady Riddel, disembarked for Opassa Beach and their rendezvous with Serge. The small island that Karsh had claimed to hold a monumental secret would be underfoot before tomorrow's end.

------------------------

As Steena slowly opened her eyes, she began to panic. Wherever she was, she could neither see nor feel her own body amidst the thick fog that seemingly suffocated her in this place. The thick musk of death and decay assaulted her on a much deeper level than any normal smell would. Despite her lack of a body, she could see the fog floating past her, as if she were moving forward through the dense vat of moisture. As her vision slowly came into focus she could just barely make out a distant light. A bright white, she soon realised this light was no reflection, but rather a beacon, a light source all its own. As the light grew, a figure emerged from the darkness of the fog. The massive figure stood solemnly before her, its back turned to her. The fog passed through the figure as if it were not even whole, but rather a fleeting spirit, taunting her for her unwitting passage into this endless assault of the senses. The figure's bulky grey armour jutted out from its shoulders like a set of vicious teeth, and in each hand the ghostly form held a weapon, blurred by the fog that hindered her already failing vision. These features were all illuminated by the sheen of the figure's long, white hair, unmistakeably blowing in a gentle yet intangible breeze. As the figure continued to grow in her vision, she could also see her body slowly return to her.

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On the deck of the S.S. Invincible, Guile stared up to the moons, emerging slowly from beneath the horizon, as he whiled away the night by brushing up on his astronomy. Without a need for sleep the magician oft found himself quickly tiring of his surroundings, but he had made a promise to Serge, and he was not about to go back on his word. The lithe young man took this opportunity to practise his hobby: magic. He would often feel foolish, a master mage traipsing around with a total lack of skill in simple sleight of hand, but with the rest of the world fast asleep he felt secure in the knowledge no one would harass or humiliate him after seeing the various cards fall out of his sleeve following a simple motion of his hand. Groaning as he leaned over to play yet another game of 52 pick-up, Guile felt his staff nudge him in the backside. Quickly standing up, Guile turned to look at his staff, still nudging him gently. He quickly swept over the expanse of the deck with what Kid affectionately referred to as his sixth sense (though it would undoubtedly surprise her to know he had many more than six) and felt nothing.

Guile let slip a look of frustration as his staff continued badgering him, gently rapping his arm. Fed up, Guile violently grabbed the staff from the air and held it still in his hands. Without the sound of the gentle brushing of the rod's brass cap upon his billowing white cloak, Guile's ears immediately became aware of another, much more pressing sound: that of bare feet scraping across the wooden surface of the deck. Fearing that someone had borne witness to his failed attempts at 'real' magic while staying completely hidden from him, Guile quickly spun around. By this time, Steena had climbed atop the flimsy railing running around the entire deck of the ship. As she balanced precariously, the railing's structure at risk of failing under her weight, Steena's eyes remained closed and her face maintained a look of tranquility rivalled only by that of the sea she stood poised to plunge into. Guile's hand shot towards her, his staff flying from his hand. The staff came to an abrupt halt in the path of Steena's dive, keeping her from plummeting from the height of the ship by pulling up on her waist, her legs and head dangling towards the briny blue below.

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As Steena sat up in her bed, Guile calmly paced back and forth before her, gravely contemplating the information that had been passed on to him. He would occasionally stop and stare at Steena before once more dropping his eyes and pacing. Yet he contemplated more than the dream she had described, more than the violent fluctuations of power she confessed to suffering almost daily. He contemplated the prescience of a woman he had loved long ago. Indeed, that woman and this one sitting on the bed before him did share quite a lot in common. Guile shook his head quickly, casting the thoughts back to the caverns of his mind from which they had unexpectedly emerged. This was not like him at all, getting caught up in a memory. He knew that to be a mistake suffered by too many of his peers, a mistake that was all too often fatal. He turned his thoughts to the description of her dream world, of the ghost she had seen, and of the thick, acidic fog that had surrounded her. It was undoubtedly leading her somewhere, but where?

"Perhaps it was something I ate," Steena offered. She had fewer answers to this new riddle than Guile, despite having suffered the dream and subsequent violent awakening first hand. There was a suffering soul out there, this she knew. It was her duty to seek it out and put it to rest. Thus was her destiny. She accepted it gladly, happy to point an errant spirit towards its true destination. The spirit in her dream was pleading for help, but it could very well be stronger than anything she'd faced before. It was even possible the spirit had sought her out of its own will, and that left her disconcerted.

"Somehow I doubt that," was Guile's only response. What other response could he give? He had no answers, and knew he needed further contemplation. Time; that was all he needed. No riddle had ever escaped him before. Yet each day he kept company with Serge it seemed the riddles around him became more twisted and self-contradictory than any he'd ever encountered before. This woman's presence was not helping. It was distracting. Initially, Guile felt relief when the feeling of several small boats pulling up alongside the ship interrupted his thoughts. Serge and company had returned from that island that so many of the ship's occupants had been unable to shut up about. He could ask Steena to tend to them while he sat upon the matter further. Yet just as he was about to suggest they part ways, Guile's relief turned to concern. It was obvious Steena had felt the change in the air as well, as she now stared out the window, her face overcome with sudden shock.

"Something is amiss," Guile stated. "They're bringing a burden with them, and several wounded compatriots." Steena turned to Guile, her expression now hardened in spite of her fear. "Go," Guile continued. "Hurry. I have no means with which to help, so I will stay and ponder this matter. I may yet have an answer." Steena needed no further encouragement, and rushed from the room. As she emerged into the night air, she could hear them. Nine of them, some with voices she recognised and others without. Yet none of them seemed in proper shape, and something told her that three of them required immediate help. She leapt down the stairs to where the small flotilla had parked alongside the ship. Serge, Glenn, and a familiar looking blonde were in one boat. In the next was Lady Riddel, attempting to comfort her fellow passenger, a tall, handsome young man in stunning armour, as he clutched at his head. The contents of the third caused her to gasp.

Inside the boat sat Karsh, thick bandages running across his entire body. The blood seemed unable to stop flowing forth from his body. At Karsh's feet lay Radius, asleep and looking deathly pale, and Zoah, fully conscious but struggling to move. As the boats came to a stop, Serge and the blonde woman leapt from the first boat and rushed to the one carrying the wounded. Glenn and Riddel carefully escorted the armour-clad man aboard the ship, the man still clutching at his head.

In the third boat, Marcy kneeled beside Radius, shaking him in a vain attempt to wake him as Karsh attempted to lift the massive Zoah from his prone position. Steena quickly pushed Serge and the blonde woman aside, barking orders to them as she passed. "You, young woman! Help Karsh inside and take him to the medical station immediately! I will be with him soon enough. Serge! Help me take Radius aboard! He needs immediate attention, so we will simply lay him here. Marcy, stay here and ensure Zoah's condition does not worsen! He will be fine for now, but I will be back as soon as Radius and Karsh are dealt with."

With that, supported by Orlha, Karsh limped aboard, and the two soon disappeared into the bowels of the ship. Steena and Serge quickly hefted Radius aboard the ship as his wiry frame proved even lighter than it appeared. After laying him down, Steena quickly went to work. As Serge joined Marcy in another vain attempt to lift Zoah, Steena dove deep inside Radius' body, seeking out whatever it was that had induced this vegetative state. The power made no attempt to hide itself. It was almost as if the evil swelling through Radius' body, forcing his sleep, was anxious to be found, ready to thumb its nose at anyone attempting to stop its spread through the old man's body. She could quickly tell that this force had inhabited Radius' body before, and it knew its way around. It was stronger this time, and though Steena could sense the scars of a time when Radius had beaten this force through strength of will alone, this time it had managed to bond itself to the man's heart. It would be difficult to root out.

She struggled against it, the force constantly dodging and weaving its way around her probing. Every time she cornered it, the evil would lash out and almost crush her in its wake. It was as if the darkness were innate to Radius, as if the old man had carried it with him all his life, and this darkness aimed to taunt her at every turn. Steena felt almost assured that she would not have the strength to resist should this darkness choose to force her out. Inside the boat, Zoah could no longer feel his body. He struggled to move, even his head unwilling to turn and face the sounds of what he assumed was a raging battle coming from the deck of the boat nearby. He had seen the spirit hover over Dario, just as everyone else had. Grandmaster Garai was there, leading and staying Dario's hand as he saw fit while the Masamune corrupted both their hearts. He had felt the thoughts of the dead man rush through his body when Dario tossed him aside like the refuse that constantly washed ashore on that same small island.

The bruising of his ego was now the least of Zoah's problems, however, as he remained unable to move. Karsh had bled the entire trip back, a seemingly endless flow of blood coming from every wound. It left the man weak and pale, not to mention loathsome company, and Radius had not been conscious since being struck down. What he needed now was to tell the shrine maiden what she was up against. She had the powers needed to face down the evil that sword had planted in them all, but she would need more than simply that. Zoah continued struggling to move, struggling against whatever held his body in place against its will. He concentrated all of his effort on regaining the feeling above his shoulders, and soon found he had barely succeeded. He had suffered but a glancing blow, and it was likely that, with time, Zoah could overcome the Masamune's influence within him by will alone, just as Radius had once done. With fresh blood rushing to his lips, Zoah cried out. "Enough Garai! You'll not have your way with us any further!"

Turning at this outburst, Steena was shocked to see Zoah lifting his head from the floor of the boat and yelling at her. No, not yelling at her, but at someone in her vicinity. After quickly passing him over upon arrival and noting that he could not move, Steena had never suspected that the masked brute could by himself fend off the power that had struck them all down. She soon found herself blushing at her lack of faith in the many dragoons that had joined Serge. They had many facets to their strength, and she wondered if she would only discover more. Zoah continued his tirade, yelling at the spirit flowing through Radius' veins. "We're beyond your reach now, Garai! The past is no reason to turn to hatred! Sir Radius has atoned for his mistakes! You need not harm him further!" The words that came flowing forth from his mouth surprised even Zoah, but the thoughts were impossible to ignore. The Masamune had touched him, and so his head was flooded with its essence. He suspected Karsh and Glenn were now feeling the same thing.

He knew not how this could possibly help the situation. He could simply hope Garai, or what was left of him, would still listen to reason. So, with his repertoire depleted, Zoah returned to his struggle, the feeling in his right arm gradually fading back. As he clenched his fist, Zoah could now see the shrine maiden's face fill with colour. Serge and Marcy followed Zoah's stare, to where Steena continued her work on Radius. All three gasped as Radius began to stir, and soon Steena stood up, helping Radius to his feet. Zoah now felt the feeling come rushing back through his body. As the sensation washed over him, he leapt to his feet, sending both Serge and Marcy bounding for safety outside the rocking dinghy. Steena turned to face Zoah, now coming aboard. "Thank you," was all she said. Marcy, her demeanour still uneasy, turned to Steena.

"Like, are you gonna go help Karsh or what?" she asked of Steena, to which came a curt, yet reassuring reply.

"Karsh is fine now. Whatever that evil spirit left behind is gone from this ship and all its occupants. It seems that simply calling him by his true name has weakened his power in this world significantly. For now, his hatred has been subdued." So, with that, the five of them made their way slowly inside the ship. Steena soon fell behind the troupe, prompting Zoah to wait up for her in the hallway of the ship.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"Zoah, you named that spirit when you were calling out. What was the name, again?"

"Garai."

"Who was he?"

"Grandmaster Garai was a great dragoon."

"What did he…look like?"

"He was very tall, with long, white hair. His armour was very exquisite, and was supposedly buried with his body. I'm not sure about anything else. It's been a long time since I last looked at one of his portraits." Steena appeared downtrodden at his response, almost as if she had been expecting, and at the same time dreading the answer.

"I see. Thank you."

"It was nothing." With this, Steena turned to the door beside her and opened it, entering the dark room. She slowly closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, breathing a heavy sigh. It was not until she collapsed upon her bed that she discovered how much the night's events had taken their toll on her body. She could only hope that Guile soon deduced the location of the spirit calling out to her in her dreams. After nearly plummeting to her death during the first of such dreams, she worried what might happen should she suffer through another. Yet the dreams were her only clues. Now, at least, the wand'ring spirit had a name: Garai.

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She had stopped eating again, something that Zoah could stand less and less every day. The helplessness he felt while watching a friend slowly waste away in such a manner was something he could not stand. Zoah realised that he should have mentioned something to someone, something about the visibly growing trouble Zoah could see on Steena's face, but it seemed everyone simply turned a blind eye to her, content to believe a spiritualist such as herself could handle anything that came her way. Zoah was not so easily sated, and so tonight, as with other infrequent occasions, he found himself delivering a hot meal to her, scrounging up what fresh supplies he could and coercing Orcha into cooking. Marcy had caught him once. She had called him stupid for worrying too much. Perhaps he was worrying too much, but he had his reasons. Now, as he approached her door, he could hear something that rarely graced the ears present within the ship during the height of the day, let alone at an hour such as this. It was whistling. Who, he could not tell, but the whistler was approaching without making a single other sound. Not even his feet could be heard padding along the wooden planks on the floor beneath him. This, of course, was because he floated.

Guile approached Steena's door filled with a smug sense of self-satisfaction. No other riddle had taken him this long to solve, but no other riddle had ever left him with so few clues, either. Considering the miniscule amount of time Guile had spent actually pondering the riddle itself, and not the woman who had revealed it to him, he felt it a feat worthy of note. There was one last part to the riddle, though. A part he had not seen approaching. This part of the riddle now stood before him, blocking his entry into Steena's room, and it came in the form of 203 pounds of muscle sticking out from beneath a smooth metal mask.

"Sir Zoah, what brings you here at this late hour? Should you not be resting your weary little head after a day of hard wrought battle alongside your fellow dragoons?"

"I am here delivering food to Miss Steena." Zoah stated. Guile's eyes drifted down to the steaming plate of…something that Zoah held in his hands. Guile winced.

"What a horrid looking thing."

"Miss Steena enjoys it," Zoah replied. Guile was quick to respond, never one to miss the return volley of a match of verbal tennis.

"Interesting. I had not suspected any of the Devas to have the observational skills to see past their hands, let alone bear witness to the obvious physical suffering our dearest shrine maiden appears to be enduring. Then again, I suspect that's all that that mask allows you to do. See."

"I'm not interested in your—"

"Oh, but you should be, Sir Zoah," Guile interrupted. His eyes narrowed to slits as he prepared to dive in headfirst. "For you see, I knew Rosemarie when she was but a baby. Well before you knew her, anyway." With this, Guile could barely discern Zoah's eyes widening beneath his helm.

"How do you know her?" Zoah quietly asked. Before Guile could respond, both men were interrupted by a scream from the direction of the room beside them. Both quickly turned to face the door between themselves and the scream, then quickly turned back to face each other, eyeing one another sceptically. Guile was the first to break from the staring contest, gripping the handle of Steena's door firmly. Guile, attempting to turn the handle, found he could not.

"Something seems to be wrong," Guile said. It's not locked, but it seems to be stuck…." Zoah stepped between Guile and the door, removing Guile's hand from the door handle.

"Allow me."

The door, ripped from its hinges, flew across the inside of Steena's room and hit the far wall, splintering into several large pieces. As the two men entered they froze in mid-step. Before them, pinned against the roof by an unseen force, was Steena, her curved sword floating in the air mere inches beneath her throat. "What is the meaning of this?!" Guile cried, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over the room.

"I do not know!" Steena cried out in reply. "I awoke only to find myself like this!" The sword floated gently downwards, preparing to thrust straight up into the helpless woman's neck. Zoah violently pushed Guile to the ground as he rushed forward, leaping through the air at the speeding sword. He crashed headlong into the blade moments before it reached Steena's neck, and both man and object went tumbling across the room in a heap.

As Zoah stood up, hilt of the sword firmly in hand, he slowly pulled the tip of the sword out of his right shoulder. As the blood dripped from the blade to the floor below, Zoah seemed to struggle with the sword that now possessed a mind of its own. With much effort, Zoah finally slammed the sword deep into the floor of the room. The sword twitched back and forth, attempting to free itself from the floor, but was unsuccessful in its attempts. Then, suddenly, it stopped. At this same moment, Steena fell towards the floor. Guile, thrusting out a hand, managed to slow her descent, and Steena softly floated to the floor. Both men approached her. "Are you hurt?" Zoah asked, but Guile did not give Steena the chance to respond.

"It appears the dreams are now getting out of control," Guile stated. "I am glad I came around when I did, for I have to tell you that I have figured out the location of this dream weaving apparition. The heavy odour, dense fog, and ghostly appearances are all characteristic of this world's Hydra Marshes. I believe our answer lies within the belly of that uncharted beast." Steena stood up, a small smile appearing on her face for the first time in weeks.

"Finally," she gasped. "An answer to help me end this nightmare."

"I would like to accompany you, if I may," Guile added in an uncharacteristically humble manner. "But the two of us shall not get far without some brawn to accompany our brains. I suggest the addition of a third companion." With this, Guile's eyes drifted past Steena to where Zoah observed them. "After all," Guile added, "he shall not be much help to Serge after suffering such a scrape."

Zoah again became aware of the wound in his shoulder, and knew he had little choice in this matter. If Guile had not suggested he follow them, Zoah himself surely would have. "I'll gladly go with you," Zoah stated. With this, Guile wrapped his arm around Steena's shoulders and smiled at Zoah.

"Then we leave tomorrow. And Zoah?"

"Yes?"

"Wipe yourself up before you go. You're bleeding everywhere." Guile then turned and exited the room, laughing as he did so. Zoah was quick to follow him out, but turned to speak to Steena just outside her room's entrance.

"I'm sorry about the disturbance, Miss Steena. Without a door, I suggest using my room to sleep in. I'll be below-decks all night tending to this wound." Zoah then slowly surveyed the room, his eyes finally meeting Steena's. "Good night." With this, Zoah turned and departed. Soon after, Steena followed suit, leaving the room empty.

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As Zoah pulled aside the heavy foliage blocking their entry into the secluded marshes, Guile and Steena treaded warily past him. Zoah followed, letting the branches snap back to their original position as he let them go. The dense green fog sank into their skin, filling every crevice of the marsh with its putrid scent and sticky vapour. As they followed the simple foot trail leading through the marshes, they soon found their path submerged in a sickly green substance that was likely water at one time, but no longer bore any resemblance beyond density to its pure, blue ancestor. Steena timidly continued forward, but jumped back with a cry of pain just as she placed her toes into the edge of the green liquid. As Zoah and Guile came up alongside her, staring down the length of the submerged section of the path, Steena spoke. "This appears to be a very acidic substance. We should not proceed through it without further protection."

"Aye," quipped Guile, "therein lies the rub. We shan't go through it, but over it." Guile then began to softly float mere inches above the ground. As Guile raised his hands, Steena was soon floating as well, and Guile led the two of them over the stagnant pool. Steena quickly grabbed hold of Guile's arm, however, urging him to stop.

"What of Zoah?" She asked.

"I believe," Guile replied, "that he shall grow a third leg before letting anyone lift him from the ground." Steena looked over her shoulder and saw Zoah trudging through the acid behind them, keeping up an impressive pace. Zoah was pleased that the mask hid his grimace of pain, but he quickly caught up with the two and emerged from the disgusting pool with steam rising from every patch of skin below his knees. His exposed skin was now a bright red, and Zoah's metal plated footwear quickly began to corrode, but he moved down the path ahead of Guile and Steena nonetheless. Steena, aghast at Zoah's blatant lack of self-regard, spoke out, while Guile simply smirked.

"How could you do such a thing to yourself?" Steena asked. Zoah stopped mid-stride and turned to face the two of them.

"Guile could only carry one of us," was all that he said, and he resumed walking down the path. Guile chuckled, but quietly enough so that no one else could hear him. Guile knew full well he could have gone back for Zoah, but he also knew that the Deva would never allow himself such a luxury, especially in the company of Steena. In fact, Guile could tell that Zoah had wished for the opportunity to carry Steena over the acid himself. Guile pondered on how anyone who carried himself with so little dignity could have made it this far in life, but then again, Guile had never thought very much of the General and his lot. He found them intolerably short sighted. Steena, who had now wandered as far ahead as Zoah, interrupted Guile's thoughts.

"Which direction shall we go?" She asked. The three stood before a fork in the road. The lower path only led to more caustic broth and fetid fumes. The upper path led up into the heights of the marsh, above the fog and thankfully absent of any more submerged trails. He had no qualms about staying below, it mattered not to him, but he knew well which path his companions would choose.

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As she, Guile, and Zoah approached the small crowd of ecologists, Steena noticed they huddled around a gaping hole in the ground. She felt the overbearing curiosity of the men and women course through her heart, and knew in an instant they had no idea what lay below. Undoubtedly too afraid to go further, they appeared to be dropping things down the hole. As she drew closer, Steena could see that the ecologists were indeed lowering small buckets into the hole, hauling them up filled with a substance they would eventually use to substantiate their continued study of such a desolate place. Zoah was surprised to find anyone here at all, but again the mask hid his expression. One of the men of the expedition turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. He was sure it was his colleague, there to offer him a hot cup of coffee and an opportunity to go back to camp and rest. He could almost smell the coffee as he opened his eyes, but was quickly filled with disappointment as he saw the three strangers approach in a strangely dignified manner, especially considering the decrepit state of the ground on which they walked.

His disappointment soon changed to curiosity. What were other people doing here? How had they gotten past the briny pools and poisonous insects wearing those unusual clothes? He swore that, between the three of them, there still wasn't enough material for any single one of them to navigate this place safely. Yet here they stood, poised for action and dirtied by the heavy mist that had descended into the lower areas of the marsh so long ago. He soon noticed one was packing a sword, and another appeared to have a magical staff floating alongside him. He thought they must surely be simple swashbucklers, out to make a quick buck by stealing some of the resident insects' various carapaces. Wait, had he just seen the staff floating? "Ho there, good fellow!" the one with purple hair called out.

"What in the Hell are you people doing here?" was the man's reply. "You shouldn't be wandering about without protection against the elements, especially in a place like this!" As the purple-haired man approached, the woman and the other man pushed their way through the crowd around the hole and looked in. "Have you lost your minds? This is a scientific site, and I have no intention of letting you people gallivant about, poking your noses into my research and throwing a wrench into the delicate set-up we have here!" Behind him, the scientist could hear the woman's voice speaking to the other male traveller.

"This must be it. Looking down in this hole, it's exactly like my dreams. The scent, the fog, the ghostly images that fade away as I try to focus on them, this must be the source." As he turned around, the scientist nearly fell over at what he heard next.

"Then we'll have to go to in and find what you're looking for," the masked man said. The purple-haired man then quickly floated past and joined the two at the edge of the hole. Wait…had he just seen the man floating?

"You…you can't go in there," the scientist finally managed to squeak out. "It's dangerous, and we don't have any idea what's down below! What if it's a giant, scary monster with…with… nasty teeth…." The scientist could see his warnings were useless as the purple haired man and the woman began to slowly float down into the hole. Yes, this time he was sure they were floating. The man feinted. As Guile and Steena softly came to rest on the floor of the natural chamber that years of erosion had carved into the surrounding rock, Zoah leapt from the brink of the hole above and came crashing down beside them, shaking the ground as he did so. As the three looked around, they were mesmerized by the patterns of light playing on the damp walls of the cavern, the rays of sunlight from overhead glinting off the ring of water that surrounded the little tract of stone beneath their feet.

As Steena looked about, turning her stare from one curved wall to the next, she could feel something similar to what she had experienced during her dreams. The clouds of dust and vapour that floated through the air reduced all detail of her surroundings to a mere haze, and she wondered if what she was looking for was really here. Then an incredible sensation overwhelmed her, forcing her to her knees. As Guile rushed to her side, Zoah could only stare at what lay before him. There, standing on a little outcropping across the small moat, was a small ghost resembling the shape of a Dwarf. It spoke to him.

"Humans…" it said, "Mankind…. This forest…is dead…. Our Hydra…perished…. Our hatred…of mankind…is eternal. Listen to the planet's woes…humans…." Zoah turned to face Steena and Guile, telling them to turn around. They could not, however, for something had appeared on their side of the underground sanctuary as well. Zoah followed their stares to where the water had begun to boil. Slowly, several pieces of long buried bone floated out of the water, each piece gradually drifting into the air of its own volition. Guile and Steena began backing away, stopping only when they bumped into Zoah standing behind them. "There is a ghost behind us," Zoah said. Steena turned to him as both Zoah and Guile kept their eyes on the floating bone fragments.

"Of what?" Steena asked.

"A Dwarf," Zoah replied, "that says it hates us. It says the Hydra once living here perished." The bones, still rising into the air before them, began to take shape. The ghostly skeleton of a long-dead Hydra now towered over them all and began hesitantly flexing its massive jaws. Without noticing the three travellers, now backing away from it together, the massive ghoul began flailing its tails about, flicking them against the nearby walls with a loud snap. Through the groans and whines of the Hydra, sounding off as it continually expanded its tenuous hold on this new existence, Zoah managed to speak in a calm, cool, collected manner. "Perhaps we should speak to the Dwarf."

Suddenly, the ghost of the dwarf, still standing behind them, screamed out in a language that none of them could understand. All of them knew full well, however, that whatever it said was not pleasant. They turned back to the Hydra's skeleton, which had now become well aware of their presence. As the Hydra unleashed its horrid battle cry, Guile and Steena clutched at their ears. Zoah pushed his way between the two and approached the wraith, stopping just as his feet reached the edge of the tiny inlay they still stood upon. The Hydra brought its snout down, holding it inches from Zoah's mask.

As the two stared each other down, neither budging from their position, Steena called out to Zoah, urging him to get back to a safer distance. Guile had turned around to face the ghost of the Dwarf, now slowly fading from view. As Guile thrust his hand outward, a series of green strands of light emerged from the air around the ghost and threaded their way around its form, preventing it from disappearing completely. Guile simply lifted one eyebrow suggestively as the ghostly Dwarf turned to face him. "Human…" it said. "You underestimate…our malice…. The forest…will not bow to you…. You humans…all will die…." With that, the ghost vanished in a burst of light. Guile turned around as he heard the Hydra scream louder and longer than he had thought possible. The reverberations of the sound within the small grotto amplified the scream until Guile had nearly keeled over, both he and Steena tightly clutching their ears. Zoah, however, simply stood in place, staring into the gaping maw of the beast. Before the Hydra knew what was happening, Zoah struck.

Pulling his fists up quickly, Zoah caught the creature on the bottom of its jawbone. The creature's head snapped back as the bone flew up and hit the rest of its skull. The Hydra eased its head forward, shaking it from side to side in an attempt to remove the stars spinning before its eyes. As it looked down, the creature noticed the large man wading into the water at its feet, fists flying. It could feel every strike against its haggard bones resounding through its body and echoing in its head. It could hear one of its ribs give way with a loud crack. As Zoah continued to pound away at the bones comprising the body of the apparition, Steena and Guile simply stared, dumbfounded by Zoah's lightning-quick action and apparent success.

The creature, however, managed to shrug off the pounding and brought both its tails around, flicking Zoah aside as if he were nothing. Zoah crashed into a nearby wall of the cavern, shaking loose a thick cloud of dust and debris from the higher reaches of the cave. All Guile and Steena heard from the far corner was a long, low groan as the Hydra advanced on them. The creature lunged at the two, fangs bared. The two jumped aside just as the Hydra's mouth came snapping closed. It quickly swung its head to the side, managing a glancing blow on Steena that tripped her and sent her rolling into the stagnant water that surrounded them. As Guile floated to where Steena lay, barely managing to keep her head above the waterline, the Hydra lunged, baring its vicious rows of teeth. Guile flew aside, narrowly dodging the dangerous bite. As the ghastly skeleton continued snapping its jaws, Guile found himself ducking left and right through the air.

Guile could now hear the sound of bubbling and gurgling in the surrounding water. He risked a glance over and noticed that Steena's head had slipped below the water. Guile's eyes went wide and he rushed toward the scene in an effort to prevent a needless drowning. He did not, however, notice the Hydra take this moment to lunge at Guile, mouth wide open and poised to swallow him whole. At the last second, Guile noticed the ghoul coming at him, and with a sweep of his hand, his staff flew into the mouth of the Hydra, preventing the creature from closing its gaping maw. As the Hydra struggled against the staff wedged in its mouth, Guile quickly floated to where Steena lay beneath the water and grabbed her head in his hands, pulling it up above the water. Steena violently coughed, gasping for air as she rested her head in Guile's hands. Both were interrupted by the sound of shattering bone. Looking over, the two could see that the Hydra had managed to close its mouth, Guile's steadfast rod now poking out through a noticeable hole in the roof of the Hydra's snout.

The Hydra turned towards them, swaying its massive body back and forth as it revelled in its own slow, steady approach. As it drew closer, Steena and Guile could feel the gravity in the cave grow heavy. The air began to weigh down on them, forcing them deeper into the water in which they sat and leaving them struggling to stay afloat. The unseen force pushed down on them even as the creature stopped right in front of them. It may have been a trick of the light, or the fact that the creature was displaying its many teeth, but it appeared to be smiling. Guile clutched at his head, struggling to regain his concentration. If he could just summon his staff, or remember a useful spell, he could have them out of this in no time. The creature was more powerful than he had ever expected, however. The ghostly Dwarf had been right about underestimating the creature's power, but when it had first appeared Guile hadn't sensed even the slightest of what now assaulted them. He and Steena struggled to fend off the increasing pressure the dead Hydra forced onto them, even as thoughts of Zoah emerged in the back of his mind.

Zoah had, by this time, groped his way up the length of one of the cave's walls, using a steady series of grooves like a ladder. Struggling against the Hydra's downward force in the cave, Zoah had used what little strength he had left to pull himself up onto a small plateau. He lay there for a minute, staring out a hole in the cave's wall, eyeing the haggard remains of what was once the Hydra's home. It seemed that even in death the creature that called this once fertile place home could not escape the heavy-handed interference of humans. Instead of succumbing to his inner doubts, however, Zoah instead remembered that the safety of his friends was in jeopardy. It was too late for the Marsh and its inhabitants. To carry with it this sort of malice made it deserving of its fate, past and present. As he stood up, the effects of the creature's attack wearing off at this extremity of the cavern, Zoah readied himself to exact revenge on the creature for the many cuts and bruises now covering the left side of his body. The adrenaline rushed to his head and he began breathing heavily, his eyes growing wide with anticipation.

As Zoah clutched his fists tight they began to glow a bright yellow, a small beacon amidst the dank recesses of the hollow below. He twirled in place, rotating on an axis down the centre of his body. Spinning like a top, Zoah leapt into the air above the Hydra, screaming as he went. As the sound of Zoah's cries reached the Hydra, the ghoul turned and stared straight into the face of a whirling maelstrom. Zoah drove himself into the creature's head, using his body as a lethal weapon. The skull of the creature, shattered into bony fragments, was knocked from its place atop the skeletal body as several of the Hydra's ribs were blown to bits. Zoah crashed to the ground on one knee right beside Guile and Steena, looking up to make sure they were okay. He then turned back to the creature, now simply an inanimate skeleton lying lifeless on the ground, and ran over to it. As Zoah beat the motionless bones to dust, Guile called to him to stop. Zoah could not hear him however. The thrill of the fight had caught him in its wiry grasp, and Zoah was hard pressed to escape its clutches. Finally Guile's screaming, combined with Steena's added pleas, reached him. Zoah stopped and, looking about, took in the devastation he had wrought.

"I'm sorry," Zoah said, turning to face Guile and Steena as they emerged from what had almost been their watery grave. "Sometimes I lose control. It happens too often, it seems." Only Guile appeared even slightly concerned about Zoah's sudden descent into madness and subsequent return. Guile silently contemplated the sight, wondering whether to take further precaution in the future. Steena simply gaped at the destruction the fight had caused.

"Did we take the correct path, coming here and fighting this creature?" Steena asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "I fear my dreams will continue unabated. I do not feel here what I felt in my most violent nightmares. This is not the place I was meant to travel to for answers." Zoah looked back down to the devastated Hydra remains before speaking.

"None of us can say if we were right or not," he said. Steena continued.

"Was the looming spirit of the Marsh right to release that upon us? Were humans right to let this place descend into such a state? In the place of answers, this place gives questions, and I still have not found Garai." Zoah jerked around to face Steena at the mention of the name.

"What business do you have with Garai?" Zoah asked.

"He is the one I have seen in my dreams," answered Steena. "I know he is the restless soul who has called me on my search, and I must find him."

"I've heard Radius speak of his grave," Zoah stated. "It is in the other world, on the Isle of the Damned. Could your answer be there?" Steena was speechless as she stared past Zoah at the Hydra. The bones were dissolving into a fine white mist, and the mist was gradually collecting into a few floating spheres of light. As the spheres swept past Zoah, he noticed them for the first time and watched as they rushed towards Steena. Guile, ripped from deep contemplation by the sensation the Hydra's spirit had suddenly released, looked up at the floating particles. Reaching Steena, the spheres began to circle her body, gradually speeding up as they did. Zoah tried to rush forward, fearing the worst, but Guile stepped into his path, holding him back as he spoke.

"Don't worry, friend, this too may provide Steena with some of the answers she seeks." The spheres entered Steena's body one by one, making her jump slightly with every entry. After all of them had entered her body, a Hydra of pure light emerged from the ground where its bones had lain and snaked its way around Steena. As it continued snaking upwards into the roof of the cavern, Steena suddenly began breathing heavily and stumbling about, desperate for something to lean against. She stumbled forward into Zoah and leaned against his hefty arm as she struggled to create words from thought. "The eidolon of the Hydra has entered my body. Its spirit is at rest. Hopefully the Marsh will be relieved of its malice, even if it may never recover."

With this, Guile floated softly towards the grooved wall that would lead them out of the grotto. "If that's everything, we should be off to the Isle of the Damned. I sense that Serge will soon be arriving at Opassa Beach, so we should be able to catch him there and slip through to the other world with him." Guile stopped at the base of the wall and turned to Zoah as the man approached. "Help the lady, you stupid oaf," Guile spat. Zoah stopped and turned to face Steena, now barely keeping on her feet as she struggled forward. Zoah approached her and lifted her from her feet, carrying her to the base of the wall and eventually out of the Marshes. By the time the three emerged, the acid had rotted Zoah's footwear completely.

------------------------

Guile sat in the back of the blue dinghy, gently steering the vessel towards its destination. Steena sat alongside him, peeling a patchwork of gauze and bandages from the left side of Zoah's back. Guile calmly watched the sun dip below the distant horizon as Steena tossed the dirty bandages aside, caked blood contrasting with the pristine white of their material. Steena then carefully replaced all of the old, discarded bandages with fresh dressings, covering Zoah's frail scabs without breaking the silence that hovered over the boat. As dusk turned to darkness, Steena finished her task and moved to the front of the boat alongside Zoah. Sprawled in the seat beside the bulking mass of flesh, she quickly slipped into a deep sleep, the day's events weighing heavily on her eyelids. She did not stir as Zoah rose from beside her, allowing her to stretch out across the entire front of the boat. Zoah plopped down alongside Guile, gently rocking the boat back and forth as he did so. "I get the impression that you have some unfinished business with me," Guile said, still staring out to sea as he did so. Zoah turned to face Guile and leaned in close to his face, prompting Guile to turn and meet Zoah's stare.

"What do you know of Rosemarie?" Zoah asked him.

"As is the case with most things," Guile replied, "I know just enough to stay one step ahead, but not enough to concern myself over how anyone feels about it. And, as is also usually the case, you'll get nothing further from me. After all, a good magician never reveals his secrets." Neither man broke the silent staring contest that followed. Suddenly, in a reflex almost too subtle for even Guile to notice, Zoah winced. Small patches of red began to soak through the fresh bandages on his body. As Guile raised his eyebrows in surprise, Steena suddenly gasped, jolted from her peaceful sleep. "What is the matter?" Guile asked, turning to face the breathless woman as she wiped the cold sweat from her brow. Steena tightly clutched the side of the boat as she turned to face its other two occupants. She looked up to Zoah's wounds, some now reopening, and pointed towards them.

"I was torn from my sleep by Zoah's pain. It appears that I did not do an adequate job in dressing his wounds." Steena slowly moved to the back of the boat, reaching for Zoah's bloodied bandages as she did, but Zoah dodged her efforts by standing up and moving around her to the front of the boat, speaking to her as he did so.

"I'm fine. Sorry for waking you." Zoah took a seat in the front of the boat. Steena slowly crawled her way to the abandoned seat beside Guile, still half asleep and dazed by Zoah's reaction. Steena stared at Zoah's back, unable to tear her eyes from the blood still seeping into the previously unspoiled white bandages. Zoah, looking back at her, could see her stare resting on his cuts and offered further solace. "It's not your fault, Miss Steena. You should go back to sleep. After today, you look terrible." Steena, taken aback, turned quickly to Guile, who was now studying her face by the pale light of the moons.

"For once, I agree with the muscle," Guile stated. "You appear in dire need of sleep. You should lay down and rest, and have no fear that I will steer our craft to its destination by morning's light."

"Forgive me if I do not heed your words," Steena replied. "I should not be letting myself slip so easily into sleep. I am usually more restrained and as such I should—" Zoah interrupted her before she could finish.

"Stop berating yourself. You're only human. Rest; leave us in charge of the boat. If you don't, who's going to lead us in the morning? Him?" Zoah pointed to Guile as he finished speaking. Steena managed a small grin as Guile began chuckling.

"Heaven forbid," Guile said through his laugh. Steena looked at both of her escorts in turn before speaking again.

"Do not worry about me," Steena said. "I do not think I could return to sleep even if I wished it." At this Guile loudly snapped his fingers beside Steena's head, nearly causing her to jump from her seat. As Steena turned to face him, Guile reached around the side of her head and behind her ear. Steena began breathing heavily, Guile's stern stare making her anxious. Guile looked at her and tried to think reassuring thoughts. He had been practising, but still wasn't sure if he could pull it off. Guile quickly drew his hand back from Steena's head, causing her to jerk aside. He pulled the contents of his hand into view with his fingers. He held a small silver coin before Steena, causing her to question its origin.

"A good magician never reveals his secrets," Guile said, smirking as he closed his hands around the coin and opened them again, allowing a small dove to flutter out of the boat and into the sky above, its bright white feathers shining in the moonlight.

The three watched the bird flutter into the night sky and out of sight. Steena, a wide grin on her fatigued face, turned back to Guile. "I had no idea such things were possible," she said, her eyes filled with awe. With this Guile turned his eyes to hers and smiled suggestively. In one swift motion, he pulled a dazzling white rose from his sleeve, slipping it right under Steena's nose amidst a cloud of loosed petals from the flower. Steena timidly leaned her head forward, her eyes still watching Guile's face, and she breathed in the scent of the rose. She closed her eyes, taking the aroma in with a deep breath, before suddenly fainting forward into Guile's arms. Guile caught her clumsily, casting the flower overboard in the process, and turned to face Zoah, who now eyed Guile suspiciously. "Do not be so hasty to point fingers at me, Sir Zoah," Guile said. "You know as well as I that she would never allow herself rest without some…mild persuasion." Zoah simply turned his back to Guile and stared out to the calm ocean.

Guile slowly laid Steena down on the bottom of the boat, resting her head near his feet, and returned to the task of steering the little vessel onwards. Suddenly, Zoah broke the heavy silence. "You'd better not try anything like that again. You may see nothing wrong with your shameless manipulation, but I won't stand for it."

"I shall keep that in mind, Sir Zoah," Guile replied in a smarmy manner. "I shall keep that in mind." So the two men drifted on through the night in the small, blue raft, silently watching over an unconscious Steena, wary of the scepticism hanging heavy in the air and dragging down their hopes of finding Steena's answers on the long-neglected Isle of the Damned.

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As Steena knelt at the foot of the headstone, Zoah and Guile slowly began backing away from the brink of the outcropping beneath their feet. The two stared past Steena and out into the vast meadow of blooming flowers that lay below the cursed ground upon which they stood. Suddenly, the ground began to shake. Steena, her eyes closed, continued to stroke the cairn with her hand while remaining oblivious to the concern in Guile's voice as he yelled at her to get back. The massive spirit rose from the valley below, throwing its head back and lifting both of its fearsome swords into the air over its head. Steena slowly stood up, her eyes still closed as she called out to the ethereal rendition of Garai floating before her. "Spirit!" She cried, "I feel your pain! Allow me to carry out your unfinished quest, and together we can find your peace at last!" The spirit slowly lowered its arms to its sides and tilted its head forward. It stared at the woman beneath it, her arms outstretched towards the apparition.

"Peace…" it said, its voice heavy with longing. "For the opportunity to finally be freed of this enmity, I would give anything…." Steena slowly opened her eyes as she warily stepped to the edge of the narrow escarpment. The spirit began slowly fading away, gradually filling the air with small spheres of white light. The spheres began to encircle Steena, spinning progressively faster. Then, Garai's eidolon unexpectedly looked up to the two men accompanying the woman that called to him. His stare passed over Guile without a flinch but stopped squarely on Zoah. Guile quickly jerked his head back and forth, staring at both Zoah and the phantom in turn. Then, as the spirit slowly gritted its teeth, Guile turned to Zoah and screamed for him to hide his face. "You fool!" Guile yelled at the top of his voice. "It recognises you! It will not succumb as long as you stand before it!" Zoah could only gawk at the ghost of the former dragoon grandmaster.

Guile turned back to Steena and noticed that she shivered. Grimacing at her own internal pain, Steena knew the ghost's abandonment of its own dissolution threatened to tear her apart. Guile's thoughts were overwhelmed by the fear that dripped from Zoah's every pore. Zoah was frozen as he stared at the man that held god-like sway over every fibre of his body. Every lesson he had been taught as a soldier, every story he had been told as a child, had led him to place Garai on a consecrated dais inside his own mind. That he was staring down the man himself with his body rendered all but useless did nothing to stem the wraith's pending wrath. Garai's spirit began to clutch at its head, thrashing about in the air above Steena. Steena, now forced to her knees, still managed to keep her arms outstretched towards Garai as she struggled with the man's restless soul. Garai's spirit spoke amidst its pitching, and Steena echoed the words it spoke against her will. "Zoah…." both said. "I can see you…. I…know you…. I must…destroy you…. I will…destroy you all!" The spirit's swords fell downwards, slashing towards Zoah's motionless body.

Guile's hands shot out at the descending blades, and they quickly became engulfed in a thick cloud of black smoke. As the spirit struggled against Guile's binding spell, pushing the deadly swords onward with all its strength, Zoah simply stood in place, still unable to move. A cold sweat now covered his entire body, and the fear coursing through his veins left him powerless, unable to do anything but observe the events as they unfolded around him. "Move, you jackass!" Guile screamed at him. "Move! As long as I keep this up, I cannot! Go and help Steena lest I let this restless apparition loose and turn my powers against that addle-brained sack of flesh you call a body!" Guile's cries landed on deaf ears. Zoah continued to stare up at the spirit's swords as they slowly edged towards him. Now visibly shaking, it took all of what little strength that remained in Zoah's body to turn his eyes to the sound coming from the ground beside Garai. Steena, struggling to stand and clutching at her stomach in pain, edged towards him, one arm still outstretched towards the spirit. Zoah could see the blood running out her mouth and down her neck as she cried out to the aggressive ghoul.

"Garai, please! I beg of you! Let me release you!" She pleaded to no avail, as Garai pushed even harder against Guile's tenuous hold on his swords. Zoah watched as every step Steena took elicited from her a cough of blood, and he stared as it ran down her chin to mix with the blood now gushing out her nose and ears. Her eyes bloodshot, Zoah could see her face grow pale as she lifted her outstretched arm to the sky. "Mistress Direa," Steena called out to the sky above her, "hear me!"

An eidolon of Steena's former mentor suddenly emerged from the ground, lunging at the spirit of Garai. Steena, however, was struck by a sudden fit a coughing, and as the blood spattered from her lips in a cloud of droplets, the eidolon of Direa slowed in its advance, flashing in and out of existence as Steena struggled to hold the new arrival in this world. Garai, in a sudden surge of strength, pulled one of his swords from Guile's magical hold over it and swung lengthwise at the shrine maiden's summoned ally, easily slicing right through it and causing it to permanently dissipate. As Garai's shadowy extension pulled its blade back, preparing to thrust it forwards into Steena's vulnerable figure, Zoah let loose a cry of anger, momentarily distracting it. Zoah screamed as the feeling rushed back into his limbs. After letting loose his long-winded wail, Zoah tightly clenched his fists, his breath coming shallow and heavy. Seeing Garai banish the eidolon of Steena's former mentor had sent the adrenaline shooting through his body. The thrill of battle forced his breath, and thoughts of an impending struggle made him leap from the ground towards his enemy.

Garai, noticing the attack, quickly thrust towards Steena, now lying prone on the ground with blood pouring from every orifice of her head. Zoah crashed his body headlong into Garai's arm, narrowly averting Steena's deadly skewering. Zoah, leaping back and forth, continued to narrowly dodge Garai's attacks as Guile opened his hands wide, tightening his hold on one of the spirit's swords. Garai, letting go of the sword firmly rooted in Guile's magic, suddenly lunged towards Zoah with his single remaining blade. Guile let out a gasp as his spell disappeared and the unmanned sword fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Swing after swing sent Zoah tumbling, several near misses of the blade leaving their mark on his skin. Turning his head towards Zoah, Guile was just in time to see Zoah reach up with his left hand and grab hold of the blade plummeting towards him with but his thumb and his fingers.

Zoah and Garai stared at each other, the spirit putting all of its effort into forcing its blade down into Zoah. Zoah's arm began to shake as he barely managed to keep the sharp edge of the sword from severing his thumb from his hand. Seeing a small drop of blood thread its way down the skin joining his thumb to his hand, Zoah suddenly tightened his hold on the blade. Letting loose another massive outcry, Zoah twisted his wrist violently, snapping Garai's blade in two. Garai, falling forward onto his broken sword, let out a cry of disbelief as Zoah lunged forward, the Deva's fist creating a resounding clash of metal against metal. Zoah's fist, having forced its way through Garai's body and out his back, slowly clenched and unclenched until, in one swift movement, Zoah ripped his arm from Garai's body and stepped aside, letting the towering wraith topple forwards to the ground.

Zoah tossed the sword tip in his hand aside as it, along with the rest of Garai's ghostly body, faded, replaced by spheres of light once more. Guile, rushing to Steena's side, attempted to rouse her from her stupor as he called to Zoah. "I would have thought a dragoon more capable than that! We may have won but your shameless cowering has—" Suddenly Zoah jerked his head around, his stare targeting Guile. Guile was quick to respond, his face filling with fear. "Oh my…." Zoah, charging, swung his fist at the masked magician, sending him flying backwards into a nearby cliff face. As Zoah again charged towards Guile, a shout from Steena stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Zoah, stop!" Steena cried. The burly man skidded to a halt and turned to face her, soon noticing that her wounds were healing as quickly as the spheres of light floating in the air could enter her body. Zoah's head fell forward in shame as his pounding blood began to simmer.

"I…I…." Zoah stuttered, watching the last of the white spheres enter Steena's body, "Sorry." Steena rushed past Zoah to where Guile lay, struggling to his feet. She grabbed him under the arm and helped him from the ground. "My apologies, Guile," Zoah said as he turned to face his companions. "I continue to let the frenzy of battle get the better of me." Guile simply shrugged and smiled, calling his rod to his side as he did so. Then, with a heavy sigh, Guile turned his back to his two comrades and began to slowly float back the way they had come. Steena and Zoah each followed some distance behind, and the tiny troupe made its way off the accursed Isle of the Damned.

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As the three sat in their tiny sea faring vessel, drifting slowly towards the S.S. Invincible, not a word was spoken. Three divisive, wounded souls floated amidst the surprisingly rough seas in that boat. Zoah, Guile, and Steena were their names, yet not a soul would have been able to tell at that point. Zoah was a bandaged mangled wreck from the many battles he had fought without rest against enemies, friends, and himself. Guile, still a bit dishevelled from the day's events, was dark with grime that contrasted sharply against his white suit. Steena, least recognisable of the three, appeared to be fighting off the advances of the many spirits she bore within her body, and she struggled to separate her own thoughts from the throng of activity in her head. Then they heard it. They were not alone in their sudden fear, all of El Nido had heard that cry. It was the soft, sullen cries of the Dragons, heralding the appearance of all six alongside each other for the first time in ages. All three occupants of the boat stood up in unison, looking above the horizon to the distant skies above the Sea of Eden. There, for the first time in their lives, they saw all six magnificent beasts flying together, six abreast. Steena's eyes widened as something hit her in the pit of her stomach.

Guile was quick to catch this sudden pang, and rushed forward to where Steena stood, catching her moments before she toppled overboard. As Steena clutched at her mouth Guile's face became filled with concern, while Zoah's eyes darted from the dragons to the scene in the boat. "What's wrong?" Guile asked, but Steena could not respond. All she could do was bring her hand from her mouth and point at the dragons. There, in the place of the six dragons they had known their whole lives, was now a massive, hideous creature covered in shining black scales, the end result of the dragons' sudden merging. As both Guile and Zoah became intoxicated with the scene in the sky, they did not notice Steena fall to the floor of the boat and expel the contents of her stomach over the side.

"What is going on?!" Steena cried as drops of bile and half digested food ran across her lips and dripped into the sea. "Why are the dragons doing this?!" Guile was ripped from his relaxed state by Steena's shouting and quickly knelt down beside Steena.

"Do you know what is happening, Steena?" Guile asked.

"The dragons!" She cried. "They are becoming one! I can hear their thoughts for the first time, and they have become bent on our destruction! The protectors of the ancient Dragonians, the crafters of the Dragon Tear, and the deities that I have served my entire life, bent on our destruction!"

"What the devil are you talking about?" Guile asked.

"The dragon gods whom I have spent my entire life serving, for whom Mistress Direa gave her life and soul, have played us all for fools. They wish only for the destruction of all humanity. I can hear them, their screams of agony and demands of revenge. I can…smell their bloodlust. My…my service to them as shrine maiden…all for naught…." Steena began to weep, desperately clutching to the side of the boat as she again fought off the onset of nausea. It proved too much for her, however, as her stomach emptied itself into the ocean once more before she finally fell limp, her body overpowered by the extremity of the situation.

She awoke to find herself lying amidst the medical beds aboard the S.S. Invincible. As her blurry vision returned to focus, she could see Guile leaning over her, holding a damp cloth to her forehead as his warm fingertips ran down her neck in an attempt to find her pulse. She grabbed his hand by the wrist, causing Guile to simply remove his fingers and move his stare to meet her own. "You gave us quite a scare, I must say," a wide grin appearing on his still grimy face, "even I could not tell when you would wake up. It seems as if the union of the dragons has done much more than disrupt your affinity with them. I feel as if everything in this world and the other has been turned on its head."

"Why did you bring me here?" Steena asked. Guile appeared taken aback by this question. For all of his foresight, Guile had never thought she would ask that, so he fumbled about for a good answer.

"Why, well, because…you were injured," was his only response.

"Yet why here? I am no longer welcome aboard this ship. I have always been servant to what is now revealed to be our enemy. You should not have brought me back." Steena turned her head to the wall beside her, closing her eyes as she did so. "Perhaps it would have been best if you had simply cast me out to sea, to drift ashore on some far off land like driftwood…dead and hollow." So, Guile thought, Steena's grandmother was more inherent in Steena herself than he had ever suspected possible. This was a bad time for Steena to lose faith, but he knew his mistakes of the past would not be repeated. He would not lose her in the same senseless way he had lost her grandmother long ago.

"Say something like that again and I shall knock you back to sleep myself." Steena abruptly rolled over, sitting up on her elbows so as to stare at Guile, her face horrified by such a response. After spending a moment staring into Guile's stern expression, Steena hung her head in shame.

"Then even my closest friends aboard this ship would abandon me. It is just as I suspected."

"No! It is you who is abandoning yourself!" Guile's voice, now raised to almost a shout, grasped Steena's attention as she directed her eyes back towards the tall man's sombre face. "If you really expect me to believe that someone who has faced death so fearlessly in search of their own destiny would be abandoned by their friends, then I would say that these ruffians are obviously not friends. But I know those ruffians that I speak of, myself being one of them. I would certainly not abandon you, even if everyone else on this ship did. I suspect they will not." This is what he should have said, so many years ago. Instead, he'd let his pride and ego get the better of him, and he'd consequently lost the only woman he'd ever loved. It was a high price to pay, but it would be even higher if he betrayed that woman's memory now by letting her granddaughter succumb to a similar fate.

Steena would be fine now, this he knew. He could already sense the self-hatred fading. It was, however, beginning to concern him that the hatred was now being redirected. Steena felt a burning desire for revenge against the dragons that had so foully manipulated her, so she leapt from her bed and headed for the door wearing a look of disgust. Guile, however, had other plans, and stepped into her path, blocking her from the exit. "Do not leave yet," he said. "Your body still needs rest, even if your mind is ready to take to battle." Steena could feel the rage pushing her forward, despite her fatigue. She would not let this man stand in her way. Steena's hand shot forward, grabbing Guile's arm in an attempt to pull him out of they way. Guile simply grabbed her arm and held it steady, holding her in place easily. Her eyes darted upwards to meet his. By now, his expression had softened, and his mask could not hide the concern in his voice.

"Just rest for now. You'll get your chance to fight, though Serge has plans for you other than entering that tower that rose from the ocean." Steena was struck by what he said. Not by his words, but the feeling behind them. Guile, the light-hearted and carefree magician that she had been unable to read, surreptitiously or otherwise, the enigmatic man who showed no fear and seemed unendingly prescient, stood before her with his heart bared. She could feel him now, read what he was thinking. He had given her a very limited reach into his thoughts, but it was much more than she had ever drawn from him before. In there, she could find a reason to wait.

Guile, never one to let an opportunity pass by, took a chance and dove into Steena's thoughts. Just as he suspected, she had lowered her guard. But, unlike Steena, Guile was not at all surprised by what he found in her. Just as when he had had the peace of mind to delve into her grandmother, he could feel the fear, the hesitancy, and the struggle. This time, however, he knew they would pass. He had survived his test, it seemed. As Steena gradually descended back into her usual tranquil state, Guile led her back to the nearby bed and helped her lay down upon it, sleep hitting her the moment she closed her eyes. Guile simply replaced the damp cloth atop her head and left.

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Steena surveyed the inside of the cavern at the head of Divine Dragon Falls. Though unaccompanied by anyone, her friends having all swarmed Terra Tower, Steena was sure-footed in her steps through the lustrous cave, walking between glittering pools along the stony path that she had walked in her dreams every night before Direa's death. This cave harkened back to the days of the ancient Dragonians, her ancestors, and as such this place was not new to her. Yet every time she had walked through this place in her dreams the path had unexpectedly stopped at a dead-end. Steena, assured that it was the same here, was unsure what Serge had expected her to find, but she was glad that Serge remembered her suggestion of this small excursion so many weeks ago. Clutching both worlds' shattered Dragon Tear to her chest, Steena walked steadily down the path.

Reaching a bend in a the trail, one she knew always receded to reveal a dead end, Steena gasped as she noticed an opening in the rock face that had always blocked this path in her dreams. Beyond, a soft yellow glow beckoned her forth. Rushing into this new realm of the cavern, Steena's eyes lit up as she laid them upon the two pedestals sitting in the tiny sanctuary. "By the Great Dragon Gods!" Steena shouted to the empty cavern. "It exists, just as the legends of old said it would! I never thought it possible, but what a blessing!" Steena timidly delved deeper into the small sanctum. "Now," she continued, "let's see if it's still functional." Placing a shard of one of the Dragon Tears on the nearest pedestal, Steena jerked her hand back as the pedestal suddenly lit up, lifting the shard from the pedestal and into the air in front of her.

Repeating the process with the other pedestal, Steena watched in awe as the two shards began whirling through the air. She could feel a familiar sensation well up in her as the two shards drew continually closer. The sway the Dragon Tear had previously held over her seemed to be returning, and Steena soaked up the comforting sensation as the two shards finally made contact, halting their playful dance and hiding their transformation behind a veil of light. The light faded, and Steena reached forward, claiming the relic that hung in the air before her eyes. This, she assured herself, was the Chrono Cross. Yet, as she gripped it, something unexpected happened. Steena felt the returning comfort of the Dragon Tear's sway violently sucked out of her, and replaced by an overwhelming assault of raw, guttural emotion that unabashedly pierced to the depths of her heart.

Such strong emotion had never wielded sway over her in such a powerful manner as this. As new feelings cascaded through her body, Steena became disconcerted and afraid she might never regain control of her body or her thoughts. Steena struggled to focus. When was the last time she had felt something like this? She remembered now. She had felt the same thing after learning of the dragons' new hatred for mankind. How did she overcome it? She had to concentrate, to think! What had helped her? It was…Guile. He had helped her calm down. How? She struggled to remember, the flood of emotions running through her body now making it a struggle simply to hear herself think. The strong emotions she now felt were simply fodder for the spirits she carried alongside her, engorging their already strong sway over her thoughts. What had Guile done to help her? He had opened his mind to her, for the first time since she had known him, and, she suspected, for the first time ever. What had she found?

She had found him rather surprised at the force of her reading. Obviously, Guile had expected her to timidly probe her way into his head, but she was in such a state that she dove right in. She had seen images of a woman she at first assumed to be herself, but upon further reflection she realised it was not. There were differences, not just in the appearance but also in the memories associated with that woman. So, when she had found that even the most composed and enigmatic of individuals could still experience the frailty of overpowering emotion, she had known there was no reason to doubt herself, or her friends. She had feared everyone's rejection, and her association with the hate-filled dragons. She feared the animosity of the people she wanted to help. Guile helped her realise those fears were unfounded, using himself as example. He had made it clear that, regardless of what happened, he would not abandon her over such an unexpected situation. He had shown her that she was not at fault, and that friends were not something to be undervalued.

The sudden silence was eerie, almost tangible. Steena still held in her hands the long lost Chrono Cross, key to Serge's quest. She had accomplished what hundreds of her predecessors had failed to do, and now she simply had to walk out of the cavern, never to return. With her heated thoughts cooling, her rapidly coursing blood calming, and her torrent of emotion relaxing, Steena held her head high as she emerged from the cavern, soaking up the rays of the sun as they again washed over her pale face. Confident in where her quest had led her so far, she decided to move forward now in the same manner she always had. She let her soul mark the path.

------------------------

Above her the noise was jovial, even heartening. After the debacle on Terra Tower, they had emerged victorious and were now celebrating aboard the S.S. Invincible. Steena was not participating. She had learned of both Guile's and Zoah's brushes with death. It was not a comforting thought to imagine either of her new friends in such dire straits, so she had decided to use her time to meditate. Steena sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned back against the bed she had called home for what now seemed an eternity. Not her real home of course, no semblance of that place lay in sight, but the home that the people here had made their best efforts to welcome her into. Now she worried that she had worn out the welcome of two such individuals, afraid to even speak to them again for fear that they would cast aside her earnest inquiries, or worse.

She realised that what she had put them through for her own benefit was not something she would normally push upon any living creature, yet her desire to restore the order to her dreams and bring closure to her distress had driven her to act. They had come along for her benefit, and too often she failed to realise that. Perhaps an apology was in order. The confusion she had felt over her entire trip had seemed to only keep growing, culminating in her initial contact with the Chrono Cross. With every answer, she had found many new questions. One of those questions, one she now confronted often, even as she sat upon the wooden floor of her room, was 'what am I feeling?'

As the Chrono Cross had ripped the Dragonians' influence from her fully, she had experienced so many emotions. Few of them were entirely new to her, but they had suddenly been in a position to overwhelm her, to guide her hand, or to even control her thoughts. She disliked this loss of control over her own body, but she liked to believe it had also given her insight into the manner in which people lived their entire lives. Now, as she came to terms with what one of those emotions meant for her, and what satisfying such a desire might entail, she struggled to find the words that would convey exactly how she was feeling. Then it struck. No words were needed. So she released a wave of unseen power from her body to all of the occupants of the ship, knowing full well that only one of them would ever become aware of it.

------------------------

Guile moved quickly down the hallway, his staff trailing behind. His mask hid his expression, but his pace belied a mild urgency. The sensation had hit him like an errant stone, and then left his thoughts as quickly as it had entered them. He knew the only person capable of such energy was Steena, so he had hurried here, to her room, worried that she had done something rash or, worse yet, that someone else had. Guile knocked on her door, but the only sound that greeted him was a soft voice, unmistakably Steena's. "Come in," she said. Guile rushed in, but soon stopped dead in his tracks as the darkness of the room enveloped him. He could hear footsteps padding across the wooden floor behind him, lightly but swiftly, and suddenly the door slammed shut. The only light that now remained in the room was a small patch of moonlight in the middle of the floor. Guile cautiously moved towards it as he attempted to seek out who, or what, was in the room with him, and how many there were. Yet something, or rather a combination of things, had fallen around his mind, blocking his efforts. He stopped, unable to call his staff to his side. He suspected it had gotten trapped outside the room. Slowly turning around in a full circle, Guile attempted to locate anything of use, but was unsuccessful.

Suddenly, a shadow drew across the floor. Guile turned to the window to where a sleek, feminine silhouette slowly approached against the moonlit backdrop of the window. Her hips rhythmically swinging with each step, Guile could see threads of the moonlight edge their way around the naked body, gradually outlining the graceful curves of this woman that approached him. With the distinct style of the woman's white hair glowing brightly in the moonlight, Guile knew it was Steena. As she wrapped her bare arms around him, laying her head down on his chest, Guile was hesitant to make any movement, his arms still hanging loosely at his sides and his head bent down to face the woman embracing him. He could feel her bare chest pressing into the material of his suit, warming it with the heat of her body. Guile shook his head and removed Steena's arms with his own. "What's going on?" Guile asked. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," Steena cooed. "Absolutely nothing."

"Something's wrong here. What has gotten into you?" Guile asked as he hunched over in an attempt to look into Steena's eyes. Guile noticed a playful smile grace Steena's lips as she looked at him. Her hand rose to his face and gently brushed his cheek, loosening his mask from the place around his eyes. Guile quickly readjusted the mask and spun 'round, turning his back to Steena. Steena, taken aback, quickly walked up behind Guile placed her arms on his shoulders, gradually moving them down his back as she spoke.

"What is the matter?" Steena asked. "Am I doing something wrong?" Guile's heart nearly leapt to his throat. He knew the fact that everything was so perfectly right was precisely the problem. He looked at Steena and he saw her grandmother staring back, laughing at him with her eyes. Guile felt confusion set in. If he loved Steena, how could he know? If he was trying to grasp at the past, wouldn't that be unfair to Steena, or to the memory of his long dead lover?

"There is something unsettling about this entire situation," Guile eventually replied. Guile turned to look at her and still only saw the woman of the past. He simply could not convince himself he felt anything more for the woman standing before him now than he had ever felt. It was the woman behind her eyes that he longed for. It was a masochistic exercise to keep up the charade, and Guile knew this well. Yet how to admit it? It was exactly as his deceased lover had predicted. Steena's grandmother had told him that her beauty would pass unflawed to her descendants, and that beauty would haunt him for as long as he dwelled upon her memory.

"Guile?" Steena inquired timidly. Guile placed his hands heavily on Steena's bare shoulders and stared into her eyes, preparing to break the harsh truth to this confused and errant woman. Just outside the room, Zoah aimlessly wandered past the tightly sealed door. Turning the eyes within his helmet towards the door, he stopped. Zoah pondered whether he should even bother. Whether, after humiliating himself so many times, he even had any right to talk to her. He desperately wanted to apologise as he felt at fault for the agony she had suffered during their journeys, but Zoah felt assured that he did not even deserve that chance. He most certainly did not deserve her forgiveness. Just then, a sudden sound from behind the door caught his attention, and his pondering was cut short.

Inside, Guile slowly rubbed the cheek that had only moments ago been graced with a kind touch. Steena, still bared before him, scowled at him as she reached her arm across her chest in an attempt to cover herself. The sound that caught Zoah's attention was that of Steena smacking Guile, and Guile, resolved to take whatever punishment she thought he deserved, was simply relieved to have the truth declared. There was, however, an unexpected reaction to the sound of Steena's hand striking his face: a loud knock at the door. Both turned towards the knock as a voice called out. "Miss Steena, is everything all right in there?" The voice was Zoah's.

The turn of the knob cut through the silence of the room, and Guile's eyes went wide with fear. Turning to Steena, he cried out for both of them to hide themselves. "Why should we do that?" Guile was quick with his rebuttal.

"If Zoah sees us in a situation such as this, he will surely relapse into a state of anger. His past, it—" Guile could not finish, however, as Zoah thrust open the door and the hall's light flooded into the room, illuminating both Guile and Steena in a sickly yellow glow. Beneath his mask, Zoah's eyes widened to the size of saucers at the sight before him. "Oh my," Guile said as Zoah rushed towards him.

In his mind, Zoah could see her: Rosemarie. Together they walked towards the gates of Viper Manor, among a group of children their own age. The little girl, with her pale brown hair and similarly coloured eyes suddenly grabbed a young Zoah's hand. The thin boy, sporting bright orange hair, squeezed her hand tightly as the two set foot on the grounds of Viper Manor.

Inside Steena's room aboard the S.S. Invincible, Zoah rushed towards Guile, growling as he did. Guile, unable to move fast enough, was caught around the throat by Zoah's hand and pressed up against the wall. "Leave her alone!" Zoah screamed.

"Zoah," Guile croaked, "please stop. I shall harm you if I must, though I do not wish to." Guile's pleas landed on deaf ears as Zoah tightened his hold around Guile's neck. The mage, gasping for air, set his eyes aglow with a dark flame. Guile barely managed to croak out one final warning. "Fool. You still let your temper get the better of your muscle-bound brain? You shall regret crossing my path." With that, a bolt of energy shot forth from Guile's body, striking Zoah squarely in the chest. Zoah, tossed through the wall of both Steena's room and the room across the hall, found himself struggling to stand up inside the storage room into which he had been launched. On his feet, Zoah saw Guile approaching him through the hole his body had left in Steena's wall. Zoah entered the hall and approached Guile steadily, his fist drawn back.

Suddenly, Zoah's body became enveloped in a translucent cloud of black smoke. Guile, holding out his arm towards Zoah, watched as the mammoth man plodded forward despite the spell holding him. Zoah, preparing to unleash his fury on Guile, found himself suddenly unable to move. Steena, now wrapped in a bed sheet, ran her fingers lightly down Zoah's arm, still poised to strike. Zoah could see the magical restraint Guile had drawn over him fade away. As Steena continued removing the spell from Zoah's body, the flame in Guile's eyes died. Guile simply scoffed at Zoah and floated quickly away from the two, his staff soon taking up its place at his side. Zoah turned to face Steena, who opened her eyes. "Are you all right?" Zoah asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Zoah," Steena replied. "Why did you do that?"

"I was stopping him from taking advantage of you."

"Taking advantage of me? Zoah, he was doing no such thing. There was no need to barge in and hurt Guile. You should have thought about what you were doing." Steena scolded him with her eyes, and Zoah quickly shied away from her stare. "Let us retire to your room, Zoah. I shan't get any sleep in here." Zoah looked back up into her face. Seeing that Steena was once again smiling, Zoah relaxed and led the way back to his room.

------------------------

Inside his room, Zoah gently held a match to a lamp. The lamp's wick quickly lapped up the match's heat and began shining brightly with its own light. As Steena sat on Zoah's bed, silently staring at the floor, Zoah gently placed himself down beside her. "Miss Steena…." Zoah trailed off.

"I told you, I am fine," came the reply, barely above a whisper. "I suspect I shall have to speak in greater detail with Guile tomorrow. Such an event I had not planned for." Steena could feel Zoah grow anxious, his discomfort tangible. She probed lightly into his mind and found a disconcerting amount of pain in his thoughts. Recalling how overpowering anger had overcome him so often, Steena quested for an answer. "Zoah," Steena said as she lightly touched Zoah on the arm, causing him to look up. "Why do you allow yourself to become so animalistic? I know that you feel regret for what you have done, so why did you do it?" Zoah stared intently at her, internally debating whether to tell her or not. Steena could sense this internal struggle, and she could feel both sides sway back and forth, neither gaining the upper hand. Steena, anxious to learn anything about what had provoked his reaction, decided to influence his decision, and subliminally urged him on. Zoah finally spoke.

"I attacked Guile because I thought he was taking advantage of you."

"I already told you, he was not." Steena stated.

"But I assumed he was," Zoah continued, "because of what happened to a friend long ago. It was unpleasant, and I wish to prevent any repetition of her fate."

"What happened?" Steena, still anxious to learn why Zoah subjected himself to such mental anguish, again urged Zoah to tell her more, and continued to draw details from him using her unseen influence.

"Her name was Rosemarie," Zoah said. "She and I were good friends through childhood. Together, we joined the Acacia Dragoons. We trained together, and our commander was cruel to all of us. I was singled out often because I often questioned his orders." Zoah hesitated before continuing, and Steena could feel him fighting back against her mental advances. She pushed more fiercely into his head, so Zoah continued. "I…didn't enjoy being cruel. Many people told me I would never succeed as a dragoon, and I believed them. Rosemarie refused to quit, so I stayed with her in the dragoons." As she listened, Steena struggled to read the man underneath the mask, yet it had suddenly become incredibly difficult to recognise anything emanating from him outside these memories. Something around them was causing interference for her, and she could no longer root out his hidden emotions. She would just have to listen. All the while, Zoah continued with his story.

"We were almost finished our training. Rosemarie asked that I meet her outside the manor one night. I didn't know what she was planning, so I was at our meeting spot early. I heard a noise. It sounded like Rosemarie had arrived, so I looked for her nearby. There, I saw one of the dragoons had cornered her. He forced her into a corner, then tried to rape her." At this Steena gasped. Zoah continued despite this reaction. "She fought back, so the dragoon drew his sword and planted it in her stomach. He then raped her as she bled to death. I watched, but I still don't know why." Steena was ready to rush out of the room, feeling disgust at the whole story, and feeling so much pity for this poor child who had to witness his friend's tortuous death. Before she could rush from the room, Zoah again spoke, only now without Steena's subconscious prodding.

"I reported it, and the culprit was caught. As a witness and friend of the victim, I was given the task of carrying out the execution. I did not consider it a privilege, and rather than kill the man, I burst into tears in front of the entire assembly. For my display, I was subject to sever punishment. I ran off soon after, only to return some years later as Zoah." Zoah turned to face Steena, expecting an extreme reaction, such as a slap or a scream, or expecting her to run from the room. Instead Steena simply stared at the floor. She could feel her heart wrenching from the tale, her tears so close to bursting forth from her eyes. She contained them for his benefit, making sure he didn't know that the story she had forced him to tell now caused her pain. She knew that would make him feel at fault. That was why he had attacked Guile. That was why he had protected her through their whole journey together. She turned her head to look up at him. Zoah was now standing by the window staring out into the night. Steena noticed for the first time that barely any natural skin was visible on his back. Scars overlapped other scars, jagged tears in the skin criss-crossed over his shoulders and spine. Steena, her head still reeling from Zoah's story, realised that she was again confused, like she had been so often in the past few days.

If it was not longing for Guile that was hounding her thoughts, perhaps this confusion lay with her feelings for Zoah. Zoah, for his part, simply folded his arms and hung his head, probably expecting her to leave. He, too, contemplated leaving, for he knew Steena needed sleep. She would not get any with him present. Zoah was interrupted when he heard her stir. Steena tightly clutched the bed sheet that covered her body as she rose from the bed and drew up behind him. "At least you know why you chose your actions," she said. "I am still not entirely sure why I approached Guile in the manner that I did. I thought what I was doing was the correct course of action, but now I am unsure. Perhaps I am still having difficulty navigating the passages of my own heart that have so recently opened up to me. Perhaps," Steena continued as she began to stroke the scars on Zoah's back with one hand, "I was merely looking for a simple answer to why I was confused. If it was love then it offered a simple explanation for my problems, but if not, that meant I still had little control over my own emotions. I suppose I was afraid."

Zoah turned to face her. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Miss Steena," he said.

Steena continued. "That may be exactly why I am telling you. I am telling you that I am afraid of living without the power of the dragons, and I am telling you that I am afraid my nightmares, the ones that have plagued me in the past, will return. Yet when you accompany me, I feel sure no harm will ever come to me. I know you would not allow it. I am telling you that I fear being hurt. With you, I feel protected, and I wish to keep you near." As Steena moved closer to Zoah she could see her distorted reflection appear in the well-polished surface of his mask.

She slowly lifted her hands to either side of the mask, allowing the sheet covering her naked body to fall to the floor. She gripped the mask on either side and stared into Zoah's eyes. Despite her lack of dress, his eyes never left hers. She slowly pulled the mask over his head and held it between her hands, level with her chest. As Zoah's hands reached up and took the mask from her grip, Steena looked up at the face that no person had laid eyes on in many years. Zoah's hair, now faded grey from lack of exposure, remained only in clumps, the rest of his head completely bald. Lumps, scars, and bruises, evidence of many years of poor treatment and marred healing, covered his Zoah's face. Steena simply lifted both of her hands to his face and placed them on the sides of his head, closely examining the beauty that she knew she could see beneath his tortured exterior.

As she ran her fingers across his face, gently massaging each aberration they touched, Zoah remained perfectly still, holding his mask level with his torso while still staring into Steena's eyes. "Please, Zoah," Steena asked, "tell me that you will let me stay here with you this night. Spending it alone is now my greatest fear." Zoah simply lifted his arms to place his mask back on his head, breaking Steena's hold on his face. As Steena slowly lowered her arms, a look of dejection on her face, Zoah reached down to the ground and picked up the discarded bed sheet, draping it over Steena's shoulders.

"I think I'm beginning to understand, Miss Steena," Zoah said as he took a step back from her. "You're confused. Many people dwell in your heart. You're trying to figure out what you feel for each of them, and you've mistaken our friendship for something more."

"No, that's not true," Steena hurriedly replied, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I know what I feel, and it—"

"You don't know," Zoah interrupted. "None of us do. It's sad, but true. My place in your heart is one of a friend, nothing more. If you look harder, you'll soon find the person who means something more to you. You won't spend this night alone. You may, however, spend the night here." With this, Zoah stepped around a shaken Steena in order to leave the room. "I should have your room fixed by tomorrow evening," Zoah added before letting himself out and closing the door softly behind him. Steena simply moved into the vacant spot before the window and stared out into the night.

------------------------

Zoah returned to Steena's room. Guile was there, pacing just inside the large hole that used to be a wall. Guile was so distracted with his own thoughts that he did not notice Zoah approach, and so Zoah was content to watch the man pace back and forth for some time while allowing Guile's internal struggles to proceed unabated. Guile had decided against doing anything rash before ever arriving at the room in the first place, and then he had gone and destroyed the wall. He regretted that. Something about it all had simply rubbed him the wrong way, causing him to lose his hold over the course of events. It was not something Guile allowed often, and the last time he had done something like this, several people had wound up dead.

Relieved at the pain he hadn't caused, but concerned by the pain he had, Guile mulled over the details of the evening. Even a man such as him was not without a conscience. It was then that Zoah cleared his throat, so Guile stopped pacing and looked up at the man. It took all of his will to stop himself from looking further than the mask. He had no desire to learn anything more. He simply wanted to apologise, but was not even given that chance. "She's waiting in my room," Zoah said. "You should go and apologise." Guile was stunned by Zoah's accurate deductions, and he quickly began to doubt that the situation was truly so black and white.

"I cannot do that. She claims to feel something, but she does not really feel it. I—"

"Go and apologise," Zoah repeated. "Forget about yourself for now. She truly cares for you. Maybe she's confused, but that's how we all are. Well, not you, but the rest of us. I thought you'd be used to it by now. After all, this is simply about her. She needs you, so you go to her." Guile was struck still by what Zoah said, and stood in utter disbelief that the situation, as obvious as it was, had been revealed to him by, of all people, this burly man. This wasn't about his desire to honour the dead. It was about Steena's desires to understand. This was just one of the steps she had to take. Guile had helped her take similar steps in recent weeks. He should keep helping her. Guile smacked himself lightly in the forehead as he floated past Zoah and off into the depths of the ship.

------------------------

Steena continued to stare out the window towards the distant moons as she heard the door open. She could tell who it was just by the manner in which the room's air changed, and she found her heart skipping a beat as the lights of the room went out with a mere snap of his fingers. "You sent for me?" Guile asked as he drew up behind her. Steena's only response was to let out a sigh as Guile massaged the back of her shoulders. He then leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Guile," Steena soon uttered. "Could what I feel possibly be love?"

"I could not tell you," Guile replied.

"But mustn't it be love? What else could possibly have caused my recent behaviour?"

"It may be any number of things," Guile stated. Steena slowly turned to face him, her arms draping over his shoulders as the sheet covering her body slowly slipped to the floor.

"Can't you dive into my mind?" She pleaded. "Now, as you have in the past, couldn't you tell me what is happening in my heart? In my mind?" Steena hung her head as she continued. "You know the future. Will you not tell me how I should act?"

"To be honest," Guile replied, "I have no real desire to read people. I often do it to protect myself, or my interests, but I never enjoy it. Knowing the future makes life in the present terribly dull, don't you think?"

Steena's voice quickly became filled with disdain. "I could not say," she spat, "I have not felt anything of the future since the essence of the Dragons left me many weeks ago."

"Look into my eyes," Guile said, silently wrapping his arms around Steena's waist. Steena complied, drawing her head back to stare at the green globes behind the golden mask. "What do you see?" He asked. Steena began lifting herself up on her toes in an effort to meet Guile eye-to-eye. As she stared intently into his eyes, her reflection vaguely began to take shape.

"I see…." she began as she continued lifting herself up. "Why, I see myself of course. My reflection in your eyes."

"Good," Guile replied. "I was afraid I'd gone quite insane."

"What do you mean?" Steena asked quizzically, a puzzled look drawing over her face as she questioned him.

"I thought I was looking at a passionate and beautiful young woman with a warm heart and an even warmer smile," Guile answered, "but your words made me doubt my eyes. Luckily, you told me that I was indeed looking at that same young woman." Guile then quickly pulled Steena's body into his own and pulled her face forward, forcing his way between her yielding lips and probing deep into her soft, warm mouth. As their tongues danced, Steena's hands soon found their way to the metal clasps of Guile's jacket. She detached them, allowing her to slide the billowing white jacket over Guile's shoulders and down his arms, now draped at his sides. As Steena drew her soft lips across his neck, she guided Guile back towards the bed against the wall. As his heels hit the frame of the bed Guile leaned back, sitting down on the soft and yielding mattress. He grabbed Steena's wrists, pulling her down on top of him.

As Steena continued running her lips across his neck, Guile gradually moved his fingers through her hair, pulling out the ribbons that held her shining white locks in their elaborate pose. He pulled the final ribbon from its place, letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. With his hands against her cheeks, Guile guided Steena's face towards his own, stopping to stare at her face, now outlined against the pale moonlight. As he stared at her, Guile slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth, caressing Steena's soft cheek. As he recalled the time he'd shared so long ago with such a woman, this very same woman it often seemed, he smirked. Perhaps his knowledge of the future was simply based on his awareness of a repetitious past. He could plainly see the need in Steena's eyes. The need for someone, anyone, to pledge themselves to her in the hopes that she could finally understand.

Guile knew he could never do what her eyes asked, begged, of him. He was not meant to be her shoulder to cry on. He had failed once in a similar role, for a similar woman. For now, he could only offer her the solace of a single night in the hopes that she eventually realised her feelings were unrequited. It was never his intention to let it proceed this far, but what other option did he have? She thought she needed him. For now, perhaps she did. Guile's sudden pause took her by surprise, but the way he held her head in his hands made Steena feel cherished and accepted. His touch filled her with peace of mind. She took his wrists in her hands, drawing his fingers down from her cheeks to her neck, then along her shoulders and down her chest. With a sharp intake of breath, she guided the fingers lower, drawing them down her stomach and over her hips, finally letting his hands come to rest on her thighs as she unsealed the front of his shirt and pulled it open.

As Guile removed his hands from her legs to pull the shirt from his shoulders, Steena began to slowly run her hands up and down his chiselled chest, soon leaning forward to settle another passionate kiss upon her lover's lips. Before Guile could reach forward and place his hands once more upon her graceful figure, Steena took hold of his wrists and lifted his arms into the air over their heads, leaning him onto his back as she rested the weight of her body on top of him. Steena let her forehead softly come to rest atop Guile's. Her saccharine scent left him light-headed, and he could see her skin shine amidst the darkness, the dim glow accentuated by the thin layer of moisture now covering her entire body. As she lowered his hands in her own, pulling them up to her face, she whispered to him. The heavenly aroma of her breath flooded his head, and he could barely discern her words. "Am I doing well?" she asked.

Guile's breath caught in his throat as he managed to stifle a strong cough. He struggled to fathom how this woman, who could read most people from the inside out, had failed to catch such obvious cues that she was making his skin crawl with the premonition of where the night was destined to take them. The longer he hesitated, the more he became aware that her hands were shaking, and her eyes belied a conscious timidity hidden beneath her seductive smile. "If you doubt the answer," Guile replied, freeing his hands from her tender embrace, "then you should allow me to show you." With one swift movement, Guile grasped Steena around the back of her legs and flipped her over onto her back, bouncing softly on the bed as she did so.

Guile, now on top of Steena, began rubbing one hand up and down her thigh. His other hand, held to her neck, could feel her pulse racing, and as he leaned in for another kiss he could see her face had turned a deep shade of red, a testament to the blood that had rushed to her head amidst the excitement. With two fingers, Guile drew Steena's eyes closed and brought his mouth to hers, deeply inhaling the balmy air within. As Guile moved his mouth slowly down the length of her neck, Steena found her thoughts becoming jumbled. Guile's lips found one of her breasts, and then the other, sending enticing ripples through her chest as she heard Guile remove his elegant pants. Steena's hips were soon thrusting in time with Guile's almost of their own accord. She could feel her body writhe with pleasure every time his tongue caressed the pale skin of her bare chest, and she could sense this writhing was pushing Guile forwards, bringing him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, a sensation shot through Steena's body like a bolt of lightning, and it took all of her strength not to bite through her tongue. As she felt herself lose control, Steena shuddered as the pleasant sensation rushed through her body once more, fiercer this time, before slowly subsiding. Guile's knees nearly gave way beneath him as he leaned forward, his head resting on Steena's chest. Steena clutched Guile's head in her arms as she leaned back, laying her body to rest on the bed with Guile's body atop her. As Guile continued to lightly kiss her breasts, Steena surrendered herself to sleep. She trusted Guile completely, and whatever he did, she knew she would be safe for the night in his arms.

------------------------

As he floated out of Steena's room, the door closing behind him, Guile came face to face with Zoah, vigilantly guarding the hallway. "Going so soon?" The massive man asked, more than a hint of venom apparent in his voice. "Running off in the middle of the night, you appear as if you have something to hide." Guile, breaking into his usual wry grin, quickly replied.

"You're finally learning. And here I was afraid you might be impossible to teach." Zoah did not relinquish his cold glare, so Guile humoured him. "If you must know, I'm off to the tavern in Termina. I'm of no use here. Serge intends to end this mess in a few days, and you'd be hard pressed to convince him to take you with him. He has his chosen escorts firmly in mind."

"What about Steena?" Zoah asked, again a hint of venom in his voice.

"No need to worry. She managed to figure it out. She doesn't love me, or you, or anyone really. She understands that her struggle is internal, and that her feelings are still her own, whether she controls them or not. She'll be fine without me. You, however, would do well to stick with her." With this, Guile turned and floated away, but he was soon stopped by Zoah's hand on his shoulder. Unseen to Zoah, Guile grinned, knowing full well what came next. "You want to know why?" Guile replied, stating the question more than asking it. "When Serge leaves here for the darkness beyond Time his will not be the only life at stake. What little stability remains in this world will quickly dissolve, and while I know not the exact results I do know that it shall be messy." Guile turned to face Zoah, the grin gone from his face as he continued.

"Everyone will be placed in great peril, and Steena will be no exception. You will find yourself in a position to protect her, but it will not be obvious to you or her. Whatever you decide to do, never succumb to doubting yourself or your actions, lest I tear that rotting melon you call a brain out through your worthless ass." Zoah, too stunned to reply, released his grip on Guile's shoulder, allowing him to float away. Guile was well out of sight before Zoah could even move again, resuming his vigil outside Steena's door. As Zoah leaned his burly frame against the wall, the planks beneath him creaked under the weight. Zoah suddenly heard Guile's voice call out, but he could not see the man. It was as if the voice spoke in his head only, and the words, smacking of false bravado, echoed inside his helmet. "Remember, fool, I'll not be there to save your hide next time. Don't disappoint. It would be a shame to see you drown within the sands of Time without giving me a chance to meet you again."

------------------------

So, with the sounds of the elements united, Serge was released from his role as Arbiter. The two worlds were re-woven into one, and all but Serge had had their memories ripped from them. His partner, Kid, had vanished, as had his other companions, scattered to their homes like seeds to the wind. Serge felt sad knowing that they would not remember what they did, for him and for the world, but he felt happy that someday, somewhere, he would meet them all again. Maybe he could remind them. Or maybe, they would just know.

Guile, leaning forward over the bar inside Termina's tavern, let his stare wander as the woman behind the bar watched him intently, stars in her eyes. "Keep going," she said, "I want to hear how this story ends." The woman hurriedly hushed various cries for service from the tables within the tavern and turned her stare back to the masked magician.

"Well," he said, "as the world descended into chaos around them, demons and monsters were popping up left and right. The muscular man, his expression hidden beneath the mask, beat back the foul creatures, valiantly defending the fair maiden. Alas, his efforts were discovered to be for naught. In the distance, he could see the hideous thing come flying towards the ship, riding a massive tidal wave. None saw any way to stop it. It seemed inevitable that if the wave, surely large enough to tear the ship asunder, did not kill them all, the monster surely would. Seeing the plight of his friends, the masked man lunged back into battle, recklessly wielding his body as a weapon. His weakened flesh was soon ripped from his weary bones. All that remained amidst that shell of a man was the mask. With her protector destroyed, the maiden fell to her knees and wept for her friend. She was devastated. She could not defend herself.

"But alas, she heard her friend's voice, as if it floated on the wind. As the man's body dissolved, she noticed the only thing remaining upon the ground was the mask. With her friend's guidance, she soon understood. As a man, he was unable to halt the tide of events that threatened to wash them away. Yet as a spirit, he knew that she could wield him as a weapon. So the woman, his friend, his comrade in arms, summoned his eidolon to her, and the massive man looked exactly as he had before but for the mask, which had disappeared. The man's apparition grew in size until it could have easily crushed the boat under foot. Wandering out into the sea, the spirit of the man held back the creature and scattered the massive wave upon which it rode. He struck the creature down with a mighty blow, and the skies shattered from the creature's cries.

"The madness faded, and sanity returned amidst the silent calm. The woman could only weep. But the tears were not of pain, not of sadness, but of joy. Her friend had saved them all in one final stand! Such was her knowledge of the man that she had soon realised it could have ended no other way." The woman behind the bar, now leaning in close to Guile, hanging from his every word, urged him on. "And now," Guile continued, "the man lives on forever in her heart and in her soul, forever bound to her as another wand'ring spirit."

------------------------

Zoah stepped onto the harbour in Guldove. As his feet thudded heavily across the wooden planks that passed for solid ground in the village, a young knight in dull bronze armour ran towards him. Glenn stopped beside Zoah, turning to walk alongside him as Zoah again surveyed the tiny harbour where he had landed. "Sir Zoah," Glenn said, "I am glad you have arrived."

"There's no need to call me 'Sir', Glenn," Zoah stated calmly. "You, too, are a Deva."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise, either," Zoah said. "Just tell me why recruitment for our demi-human platoons is behind schedule. That is why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Actually," Glenn replied, "there is a small matter that we have been struggling with. The local shrine maiden, a mistress 'Direa', and her pupil have voiced concerns over our presence here. She has spoken to me personally but refuses to tell me how I can remedy the situation. I was hoping you could help."

"Don't worry," Zoah said, "I'll soon scare it out of her. Where is this shrine maiden?"

Glenn pointed away from the harbour as he spoke. "This direction. I'll lead you there." As the two walked off in the direction of the shrine they soon found all eyes were upon them, the loud sound of their progress across the wooden planks underfoot quickly drawing attention to their progress towards the lofty shrine situated in the heart of Guldove.

Fin

Author's Notes: My apologies to all of the purists for not making Zoah's dialogue ALL CAPS. Again, Flames are encouraged. I'm not kidding.


	3. I, Robot

As Serge emerged from the tightly sealed room atop Fort Dragonia, fully clothed and looking much more like himself, all that could be heard were the exclamations of his comrades. "Serge!" they both cried in disbelief. True, they had mostly known the young man from Arni as a towering demi-human, formerly known on El Nido as the mysterious and unapproachable Lynx. What followed was a never-ending lesson in pain and futility, until finally the dragons had intervened, and with their guidance Serge sought out the Dragon Tear, the only thing left that could return his soul to its former vessel.

Now, here he was, standing before two of the many friends he had procured along the way, a blonde man hailing from the mainland by the name of Norris, and the silver-haired shrine maiden known only as Steena, the person responsible for lending him the now shattered Dragon Tear. After the initial shock of seeing Serge whole once again, Steena looked down to the contents of Serge's left hand. Serge followed her eyes and caught sight of what remained of Guldove's treasure, now a shard and shadow of its former self.

He held it up to Steena with an apologetic look, hoping to garner some forgiveness from the woman whose most prized possession he had destroyed for his own benefit. She simply smiled, however, and said, "It is no surprise it shattered as it did. But you also carry with you the broken Dragon Tear of another world, and perhaps they together hold the secret to the undiscovered Chrono Cross. Yet I sense that you still have unfinished business..." Serge simply nodded his agreement.

"Not only must you retrieve the lost souls that followed you before you lost your way, but you feel an obligation to one in particular. A promise you made, and one you wish to keep. And I have a feeling it will lead us back to Guldove." Serge again solemnly nodded.

------------------------

"This world is distorted and crooked. Trying to force your honesty on this crooked world may break you."

------------------------

Norris silently followed Serge and Grobyc up the path to Viper Manor, now dominating the horizon immediately before them. Some distance back, he could barely make out the words that Grobyc's monotonous, metallic voice tossed Serge's way. Something about a personal favour, and how they needed all the help they could get. Norris agreed, but he did not see why they were being led back into the heart of Porre's expeditionary force here in El Nido. As the three approached the massive front gates of the manor, the gold plated viper that snaked its way across the gate glinted in the sun, causing Norris to squint. Norris soon took the lead, convincing the guards at the entrance that he was from this world, and that the guards were on orders to let him back in.

The guilt hit him soon after they entered the manor itself, as it always did when he pulled a feint veil of deceit over the eyes of his fellow man. He often noted the time interval between deception and guilt, and he noticed that the delay never changed. As the three wandered into the basement of the mostly abandoned stone mansion, its lush accommodations and elegant atmosphere sitting stagnant in the humid tropical clime, Norris noticed a faint scent, poignant and unsettling, coming from the direction of a nearby grate. The grate obviously led into the sewers beneath the manor, and Norris was not interested in visiting such a place. Before he could look up again to see where he was going, Norris stumbled right into Grobyc, Norris' head eliciting a hollow thud as it connected with the back of the robot's shoulder.

Grobyc had stopped mid-step to speak to the young, blue-haired boy standing beside him. "Is it true that she aided Serge before Porre's invasion of El Nido?" Serge simply nodded in silent consent. "Perhaps," the robot continued in his usual toneless manner, "Serge should proceed first so that she will not be alarmed by Grobyc's presence." Serge again nodded and took a few paces forward, firmly clutching the handle of the door before him. As the door swung wide, Norris could feel his senses assaulted by the fumes coming from inside the well-sealed room, fumes not unlike those wafting from beneath the manor. The various bubbling liquids and discarded sheets of paper made evident the scientific nature of the room, though who could possibly survive the noxious gases for longer than a minimal amount of time he was unsure.

Upon entering the room, all three turned to face the only humanoid being inside, a curvaceous, feminine form with an hourglass physique. A dull golden hairpiece shrouded most of her purple hair, while a white lab coat fully concealed her voluptuous form. The woman turned to face them, a look of pure detachment on her face. The dragons themselves could have been cramming their bulky forms through her tiny doorframe and she could not have cared less. A single cocked eyebrow was the only recognition on her part of the three intruders. Her eyes landed on Serge, in his usual place at the head of the line. For a brief moment, a thin smile graced the woman's lips. "Serge, vhere have you been all of dis time? I have been anxious to return to studying abroad." As Serge hung his head and slowly scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, the woman's eyes travelled upwards, above Serge's head, to the bulky robot staring back at her with white, featureless orbs, the robot's only form of eyes. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Grobyc, and the robot cocked his head slightly as he spoke to her.

"Serge and Grobyc wish for Luccia to accompany us." Serge emphatically nodded his head in agreement as soon as the cyborg had finished. Just as Luccia opened her mouth to speak, however, Norris slowly stepped around Grobyc and into Luccia's field of view for the first time. The Black Wind leader continued to slowly rub his head as he leaned sideways in an attempt to get a better look at whomever his two companions were speaking to. Luccia quickly shut her mouth and spun around, turning her back on her visitors. As blood quickly rushed to her cheeks, Luccia hastily adjusted her hair, clothing, and monocle, preparing her warmest smile as she turned back around to face the last man in the line.

"Commander Norris, vot a pleasant surprise!" Luccia cried. "I had no idea you vould be gracing my humble lab vitt your presence, lest I vould have prepared myself." Norris simply stared at her, dumbfounded. The moments in which he had met himself inside this very mansion, as strange as it still seemed, jumped to the fore of his thoughts, and he soon began waving his hands towards Luccia apologetically.

"Oh, I'm quite sorry," said Norris. "You must have me confused with the similar man upstairs. In truth I'm not actually from this world, but rather from Serge's home world. I actually don't believe we've met." Norris extended his hand towards Luccia in a friendly manner. "I am Commander Norris of the Black Wind." Luccia simply sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly back and forth.

"I am avare of the fact dat two different vorlds exist," Luccia said, "but perhaps a furtter explanation is in order." At this, Grobyc stepped forward, all too anxious to offer a full retelling of Serge's more recent escapades. As Luccia leaned back against her desk, slowly becoming enchanted by every emotionless word spilling monotonously from Grobyc's hidden mouth, Norris went back to rubbing his head, only this time because he swore he recognised this woman's voice. As he struggled to recall where he had met this woman before, Grobyc dove deep into the story of how Serge, abandoned in a trans-dimensional vortex without his own body, had wound up, of all places, here.

------------------------

As the four of them exited the tiny laboratory, Norris alongside Serge with Grobyc and Luccia following close behind, Luccia curiously examined Grobyc up and down the length of his body several times. "Very interesting…" was all she offered. As Grobyc, Serge, and Norris turned to climb the stairs out of the manor's basement, Luccia cleared her throat. All three stopped, turning to face her as they did so. "Before ve leave here," Luccia said, "I vould appreciate it if ve retrieved someting of interest from vittin the manor's sewers." Norris looked towards the floor, staring at the nearest grate leading down to the manor's sewer system. His stomach turned. "You may have noticed a strong odour coming from dere," Luccia continued. Norris gracefully stifled a cough as he once again became acutely aware of the smell of the sewer now permeating the hallway in which he stood. "I believe someting has recently emerged vittin the sewers dat is causing the smell. I can remember notting of such a creature from any of my otter experiments, so I am interested in finding out vot kind of creature could possibly emit such a scent."

As his three companions began making their way towards the nearest grate leading down into the sewers, Norris hesitated. Looking towards the grate he could see the fumes bending and twisting the light as it passed through them, and though the noxious gases were nigh invisible, it was obvious they were going to be unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, Norris steeled himself and quickly followed his friends down the ladder that would take him towards the unsettling source of his nausea.

------------------------

The four of them stood on the edge of a tiled platform, staring down at the grey-green water flowing past their feet, down the aqueduct beside which they stood, and off towards an unknown destination. Norris looked over his shoulder at the path they had trod, his stare fixated upon the greasy footsteps they had all left in the thick coating of…something that laced every surface of the sewer. Without warning, Serge suddenly hopped into the water before him, the putrid liquid soaking the young man up to his waist. As Serge began slowly forcing his way across the stream, Grobyc jumped in after him. "Grobyc!" Luccia cried after him. "Be sure not to let your exposed circuits touch the vater, lest I be repairing dem for days."

"Understood," Grobyc replied, as emotionless as always. Luccia took a step forward, preparing to make her way into the water, when a hand around her arm quickly pulled her back from the edge of the platform on which she stood. Turning abruptly, she noticed that Norris was aghast at her attempts to enter the current, his face clearly showing his disbelief.

"You do not truly intend to tread through that water, do you?" Norris asked, his voice spurning her intended actions with every word. Luccia simply blinked in astonishment.

"How else shall I cross?" She asked. Without responding, Norris scooped Luccia's feet out from under her and slowly entered the water, being careful not to let it lap up on Luccia's lab coat. "Vot do you tink you are doing?" Luccia said, too stunned at the sudden action to raise her voice adequately. Norris did not turn to look at her as he spoke.

"I am carrying you across the water, of course. Surely someone such as yourself could not be expected to traverse such ungainly terrain." Luccia simply adjusted her monocle as she continued to stare at Norris in shock. As they reached the far side of the watercourse, Norris carefully placed Luccia on dry ground before pulling himself from the water. As Norris picked bits of algae from his boots Luccia grabbed him by the chin, pulling his face up. Jerking his head from side to side, Luccia squinted as she examined every facet of his face. Norris finally managed a weak protest to Luccia's probing inquisition.

"You say dat you are truly from the otter vorld?" Luccia asked in response to Norris' complaints. "You seem to have very much in common vitt your otter self," she continued. "Very interesting…." As Luccia trailed off, she released Norris' chin and turned around, walking past Serge and Grobyc and deeper into the tunnel in which they stood. Norris slowly rubbed his chin as he and the others began following Luccia. What had startled him most was not her reaction, or even his original actions, but rather the fact that her voice, and her touch, seemed familiar. Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, both Norris and Serge began to cough. The stench that had floated up into the manor clearly emanated from the small room here. Luccia simply held her hand up to her face in a feeble attempt to block the fetor as she scoured the walls of the room with her eyes, looking for something.

Grobyc interrupted her efforts. "Grobyc detects a living creature in the northernmost corner of the room." Grobyc pointed towards a dark, damp corner of the small room, and Luccia immediately headed over. She knelt down in the corner and elicited a small gasp of amazement. Her three comrades rushed over, all of them leaning over Luccia's crouched form for a chance to bear witness to the creature she had found. Grobyc was speechless, and Serge's face became filled with obvious dismay as Norris simply stated the obvious.

"It is a small pile of goo," he said. Luccia's eyes lit up as she leaned even further towards the small, yellow, translucent glob of ooze. Amidst the continuing reverie, Grobyc's head suddenly jerked around, his eyes darting towards the small room's entrance, and its only exit. Serge, noticing Grobyc's distraction, rapped lightly on the cyborg's arm, trying to elicit some explanation. Norris noticed too, and soon asked Grobyc what the matter was.

"Several unknown creatures are approaching Serge," Grobyc stated in his usual monotone. "Serge should prepare for battle."

"Vot life force!" Luccia exclaimed, her eyes glowing with wonderment as she stared at the formless glob. She quickly reached into one of the pockets of her lab coat, adding "I must incubate it immediately!" before pulling a small glass test-tube from her pocket. As she timidly reached down to scoop up the creature, wary that any sudden shock might compromise the fragile creature, a sudden shaking of the room jarred the test-tube from her hands, causing it to shatter on the ground beside the tiny creature. The source of the jarring was two stout creatures banging on the walls of the room near its entrance. The two monsters, both of them blue and heavy-set, had angry expressions on their fish-like faces and both were waving their tridents around emphatically. Norris slowly drew his gun as Serge readied his swallow. Norris looked over at Grobyc as the robot began whirring and clicking. The mechanics fell into place, and the robot raised two clenched fists towards the creatures.

Luccia frantically searched her pockets for another test-tube, oblivious to the sounds of the battle behind her. Looking down, she noticed the creature very slowly move towards a nearby hole in the wall. If she were to let it get in there, she knew she would never have another chance to capture it. Rising to her feet as she continued to pat her pockets in the hopes of discovering another test-tube on her person, Luccia began taking baby steps towards the blob as it began its laborious trip towards the hole in the wall. With the sound of Norris' rapid gunfire suddenly filling the room, the creatures' attacks sent shivers down the room's decrepit walls. Looking up from her quarry, Luccia tried to shout over the noise. "Vould you—" she stopped and quickly ducked as Grobyc's heavy form went flying over her head and crashing noisily into the wall behind her. She rose, and continued. "Vould you mind keeping the disturbances to a minimum, please? I do not know if the creature can vittstand such shocks."

Norris, diverting his attention momentarily from the battle to yell back at Luccia, shouted, "I shall try!" Luccia continued her search for another test-tube as the noise of the battle reached a fevered pitch behind her. Her eyes lighting up with sudden realisation, Luccia quickly reached up into her hair and pulled from within it a hidden test-tube that she kept handy for occasions such as these. As she pulled the cap from the glass tube, Norris could be heard to yell "No, Grobyc! They will surely—" Luccia once more knelt down beside the creature just as the sound of something bursting filled the room. A wad of thick blue slime, flying over Luccia's hunched body, splattered against the wall beside of her, slowly trickling down its length as she scooped the small amoeba into her glass test-tube. Standing up with a wide smile on her face, Luccia's eyes soon darted from the specimen she held before her nose to her three companions behind her, now finished their vicious battle.

She looked over in shock at Norris, Grobyc, and Serge, all three now covered in the same blue slime that Luccia had narrowly avoided. "You poor ting," Luccia offered. She hurried past Norris and Serge, both dripping onto the floor, to Grobyc's side, closely examining his hulking left arm. "Now I shall have to perform a full repair of your arm," Luccia said, scolding Grobyc with her eyes. "Vhy must you always be such a mess?" Luccia, pushing Grobyc from behind in an effort to hurry him out of the room, soon stopped. Turning to Norris and Serge, both still weary from the fight, Luccia cocked a curious eyebrow. "Are you coming?" she asked, before returning to her efforts to speed Grobyc's departure. As Norris slowly holstered his gun, he and Serge began dragging their feet out the room, dripping as they went.

------------------------

Serge, sitting on a wide, flat rock at the base of Divine Dragon Falls, struggled to peel off his shirt, now crusted with dry ooze, and began scrubbing it heartily under the flow of water falling from above. A small distance behind him, on the edge of the path leading up to the crest of the falls, sat Grobyc. Hovering over his motionless shell was Luccia, poking and prodding at his left arm with various metal instruments. "Dis is no good," Luccia said to herself. "I shall undoubtedly have to retrieve my heavier tools from our camp." Luccia wandered into the thick brush beside where she stood, leaving Serge and his dirty laundry in the company of a motionless Grobyc. Serge looked up as he heard Luccia loudly forcing her way through the lightly travelled footpath leading through the woods, but he quickly returned to the arduous process of scrubbing the grime from his shirt.

Surrounded by thick woods on all sides, Norris stood naked beneath a thin, high tributary of the main falls. Scrubbing his skin with an oily cloth he had found in one of the compartments of the boat in which they travelled, Norris was making every effort to remove the stink and grime of the sewers from his skin, but realised his struggle was futile at best. Still, he continued earnestly scrubbing away, so much so that he almost failed to notice Luccia emerge from the woods behind him. Turning quickly at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, Norris cried out as he saw Luccia walk towards him and, quickly remembering his lack of clothing, used the small cloth in his hand to hide himself from her gaze. Luccia simply let out a stifled giggle as she continued approaching, stopping just short of the pool at the base of the tiny waterfall.

"Do not concern yourself, Commander Norris," Luccia said in a conciliatory manner. "It is notting I have not seen before. I am a scientist, after all." Luccia stifled another giggle before continuing. "I seem unable to locate the clearing from vhich I entered the forest. Vhich direction is the camp?" Norris, using a free hand, frantically pointed in the direction of their makeshift camp, the noises coming from his throat making obvious his desire to be left alone. "One more ting, Commander Norris," Luccia added. "You are very similar to your ottervorldy counterpart. Do you, perhaps, share his knowledge of Grobyc's systems?" Luccia stared intently at Norris as he struggled to form coherent thoughts amidst his current situation.

"No! No, I'm, I'm afraid I don't. In fact…." Norris trailed off, unwilling to elaborate.

"Hmm?"

"No. I fear Grobyc is one of the few pieces of technology that I have no knowledge of," Norris said, but his curiosity was not satisfied. "Why ask me?" Norris inquired. "You seem to have a firm grasp on how Grobyc works."

"Dat may be so," Luccia replied, "but his systems have been significantly changed since I first built him." Norris' voice caught in his throat as his shock commandeered his vocal chords. Luccia, oblivious to Norris' croaking attempts to probe further, turned and re-entered the woods in the direction Norris had pointed earlier. Luccia casually tossed back a thank you, but Norris was too busy rushing to put on his clothes to hear her.

------------------------

Norris sat at the back of the blue dinghy, guiding the small boat through the heavy darkness of the night towards their next destination, the Sea of Eden. In front of him lay Serge, sleeping on the floor of the boat. On the front lip of the ship Grobyc sat with his head hunched forward, still active but unwilling to move. Luccia apparently still had a little bit of work to do on him. Luccia herself lay sleeping across the front two seats of the boat, letting Norris take note of how her white lab-coat, unstained by the monsters' refuse that had seemed to sink into his very bones, reflected the bright light of the moon and made her prone form shine amidst the darkness. Norris had been unable to draw his eyes from her during the entire trip back from the falls, now aware that this was indeed the woman that had built Grobyc, a woman he had known before, in his own world. Norris was mystified by how the division of the worlds had created two similar versions of himself, and yet had left these two women so very different: this one here before him, and the other one he had left behind so long ago.

The image of a purple-haired young woman began to dance before Norris' vision, hazy and immaterial yet somehow completely real. Norris closed his eyes and she came into focus. The woman stood on a grassy hillock beneath a thick oak tree, overlooking a valley covered over with blooming spring flowers. The woman's long purple hair ran unhindered down her back, and her pale blue sundress billowed in the soft breeze. Norris approached slowly from behind, the equipment hanging from his belt clacking loudly as he did. The woman turned at the sound and smiled at him. As Norris drew closer the silhouette over her face faded, revealing Luccia, sans monocle. As he drew nearer, Norris embraced the woman tightly in his arms. The woman pulled back and lifted her hand to his chin, pulling Norris' face towards her own and staring closely at it as tears gathered in his eyes. Then, amidst a sudden gust of wind, the woman burst into thousands of flower petals and blew away on the wind. Norris could only watch as the petals floated away on the breeze.

------------------------

Norris, gun drawn and leading a small group of Porre soldiers, ran down the thin corridor of a scientific facility, pushing various personnel in white lab coats out of his way as he stormed forwards. Bursting through a door, Norris and his squad stormed into the lab, brandishing their rifles at the many scientists busying themselves about the complex laboratory. As his troops began leading the scientists away at gunpoint, Norris rushed towards another door at the back of the room, yelling as he did so. "This is Captain Norris of the Black Wind! By order of the Porre military, I am here to shut down this operation!" Norris easily kicked the door open, pointing his gun into the empty room. The room was filled only with the scattered wiring and parts of an incomplete robot. Norris, carefully inspecting the room as he traversed its depths, noticed various humanoid limbs about the room. Then, looking to the centre of the room, Norris noticed a case containing a head. Looking into the case, Norris could see Grobyc's detached head staring back at him

Pulling several bulky items from his pockets, Norris grabbed each of the items in turn and, twisting small cap on the top of each one, tossed them into the corners of the room and quickly rushed out in the direction he'd come from. Looking back as he rushed to the exit, Norris nearly ran into the person standing in the doorway. Looking down in shock, Norris quickly recognised Luccia blocking his path. "Vot is going on here, Norris!" She cried. Norris was speechless, unable to respond or even move. "Vot is the military doing to our research!" Luccia yelled at him, her eyes swelling tearfully. After a moment of silence, Luccia slowly lowered her head. "You are here to claim my research for the military, aren't you? I knew it. I knew you vould come one day for my creation."

"YOUR creation!" Norris screamed in disbelief. "Luccia, how did you get involved in this? Why didn't you tell me?" Norris grabbed the woman roughly by the shoulders, his eyes pleading with her for answers.

"The robot you vere sent here to steal," the woman replied, looking up at Norris, "vas being built by myself and my brotter."

"Steal?" Norris asked, his voice still filled with astonishment. "No, Luccia, this research has been labelled an affront to Porre's military efforts. We're here to destroy it!" With this, a shadow of pain drew across Luccia's face. "Quickly," Norris continued, "we have to get away from—"

"How could you!" Luccia screamed in anger, before roughly knocking Norris aside and rushing past him towards the room housing Grobyc's parts. Norris, collecting himself from the sudden blow, turned towards Luccia.

"Luccia, don't!" he screamed, but only as everything went dark.

Norris slowly opened his eyes, awakened by the searing pain that shot through his body with every intake of breath. Around him, he could barely discern the faces of three Porre soldiers huddled over his limp figure. "He's alive!" someone yelled, though to Norris the voice sounded distant, as if detached from him. Norris then felt cool water hit his lips and force its way down his throat. It came too fast, and he began to cough. Two of the soldiers lifted Norris from the ground, supporting him, as a third one saluted and gave Norris a detailed report of the mission the soldiers had just undertaken. Norris interrupted him in the middle of his report. "Survivors?" Norris wheezed. The soldier simply stepped aside and allowed Norris a full view of the thoroughly demolished scientific building behind him, one entire wing now completely blown apart by the explosives Norris himself had set.

Norris struggled out of the grasp of the two soldiers supporting him as the report continued. "Totally wiped out, sir, a complete success. The explosion hit you pretty hard, sir. You were lucky." Norris stumbled towards the burning wreckage of the building. He frantically began looking through the wreckage, searching vainly for Luccia as he called out her name. "Oh great," the soldier mumbled. "That explosion fried his brain." Suddenly, Norris collapsed in a heap, the soldiers rushing to his aid as he did. "Hurry up or we'll lose him," the soldier cried out, but that was the last Norris heard.

------------------------

As Norris slowly opened his eyes, interrupting any further descent into memory, he again looked over to Luccia. This was undoubtedly what had confused him so much since meeting this Luccia for the first time. It had been so long since that incident that he'd had trouble putting the pieces back together. Still, in his own world, he had loved her. He still loved her. She was still Luccia, and he was still Norris. The severance of the worlds was but a small hurdle for him, because he knew he loved the woman that Luccia was no matter what the circumstances. This Luccia might take some getting used to, but he still felt it. He felt this exact same way the day he had met the Luccia of his own world. It was what drove him to carry her over the grimy creek in the sewers, and to risk his own life protecting her from the creatures within that sewer. It was a second chance. The only problem was that she felt nothing more than a childish attraction to this world's Norris. He would have to win her over a second time.

Norris' thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of loud scraping, and he suddenly noticed that, in his relapse, he had driven the boat alongside several rocks that protruded from the sea below. As the boat shook, its metal shell running up against the stone, Luccia and Serge awoke violently. Norris struggled to correct the vessel's bearings as it rode further up the rock, until finally it became stuck. Serge and Luccia looked over at him with a vengeful glint in their eyes as Norris covered his face in shame and let loose a loud groan.

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The small blue raft crashed against the tiny island and its four occupants promptly leapt over the sides, their feet splashing in the shallow water washing up on the shore. Serge, at the front of the small troupe, stared up at the thick flora choking the island and could barely discern a large clearing amidst the towering trees, its mysterious masonry undoubtedly as elegant as that of the other islands at the outskirts of the Sea of Eden. Serge turned to Luccia, now beside him. "I suspect ve vill find an answer on dis island, no?" Luccia stated to no one in particular. "After all," she continued, "the otter two yielded no answers." Turning back to the boat, Serge waved his hand at Grobyc, attempting to garner the robot's attention. Grobyc looked up to Serge just as Serge made several frantic hand signals in his direction. Turning to face Norris, still busy pulling the boat securely ashore, Grobyc spoke in his monotonous voice.

"Serge would like Commander Norris to remain here," Grobyc said. Norris turned to each of his companions in turn, searching their faces for consensus. Finding it in spades, Norris returned to the task of pulling the boat ashore.

"Of course you are correct, Serge," Norris replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Someone needs to stay and watch the boat. After all, I do not suspect anything out of the ordinary will occur here any more so than on the other islands." By this time his words had become indistinct in Serge's ears as the boy led Grobyc and Luccia down the tiny stone footpath that wormed its way into the heart of the dense thicket closing in on all sides. Norris, after pulling the boat well up onto the shore to make sure it did not drift away with the tide, sat down in the soft white sand encircling the edge of the island. Leaning back against the boat, Norris closed his eyes as he lifted his face up to the sun that beat down on his weary form.

Sitting in silence, the heat of midday setting his heavily clothed body aflame from within, Norris' breath suddenly became shallow, his short, quiet gasps getting sharper with every passing moment. Norris' face knotted up as tears collected in the corners of his eyes, and his breathing soon drowned out the pleasant sounds of the birds floating in the sky above him. As his head jerked forward, Norris' eyes shot open and his breathing gradually returned to its normal pace. He quickly wiped the saline beads from his eyes, his thick gloves scraping across the soft skin of his face and leaving noticeable red marks on his irritable cheeks. Brushing his blonde hair from his eyes, Norris stood up and turned to face the boat, staring down into its well-worn hull.

Doubts had crept through Norris' thoughts suddenly, even as his unusual reaction subsided. He was sure that his love for the woman known as Luccia transcended the division of the world, but, for some reason, Norris had sat in the boat thinking solely of the Luccia from his own world for the first time in ages. The memories of the woman that Norris had loved first, and that had been left dead by his own hand, drove a wedge into his heart that night that he had run the boat up on those rocks. How symbolic, he thought. Now, whenever he looked at this world's Luccia, his eyes gleefully soaking up her beauty and femininity with every brief glimpse, his mind would strike his heart with the pangs of guilt that were the only constant thing during his all too tumultuous days in El Nido. Questions, ones he feared and dreaded, even refused to acknowledge, questions that he had never before fathomed in the least, popped into Norris' head: Was he betraying his world's Luccia by suppressing his grief and trying to love someone else? Were his feelings for this world's Luccia truly love? Were his actions truly fair to either woman, living or dead? Norris tried to dismiss the thoughts as irrelevant, as a simple knee-jerk reaction to finding Luccia again. After all, it wasn't as if he loved somebody new. He loved Luccia.

Still, with each passing day, as his bond with this world's Luccia grew, Norris had taken greater notice of how different she was from the Luccia of his own world. Norris wondered if he could simply fall in love again with a completely different woman. But to think that he could accidentally kill his beloved and then so easily move on to another woman made Norris' stomach turn. He had little desire to become as heartless as that. Norris was fearful of forgetting what he had once done to Luccia, and was worried that he may repeat his mistakes. His thoughts were soon interrupted by the growing sounds of a battle raging from deep within the lush grove of the island, and by the sounds of it, things were not going well. Norris steeled himself and abandoned the boat, urged to action by his desire to help his friends.

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As Serge approached the spinning green pyramid, floating in the air before them with a will of its own, Luccia and Grobyc followed some distance behind, Luccia overcome with the memory of the other fates, Atropos and Clotho, and how they had spoken, soaring away after saying their piece. Serge looked up at the statue of the young woman towering over the three of them, and a voice resonated in their heads. Luccia let out a sigh of relief as the words took on a familiar tone. "I am Lachesis," the voice said, "forever measuring the thread of life." Luccia's relief quickly turned to anxiety, however, as she heard Grobyc's systems whirring and clicking. Serge and Luccia could now hear something approaching, and their apprehension was hardly alleviated by Grobyc's comment.

"Grobyc detects two unknown objects approaching at a high rate of speed." The other two floating pyramids, formerly positioned before the statues of Atropos and Clotho, arrived at either side of Lachesis' intermediary. All three floating pyramids twirled in place, opening a hole in the air between them. From the hole emerged what appeared to be a mask, disembodied and emotionless. Embraced by the bright sunlight drawing over it, the green apparition shone with heady blue and red undertones, and the beauty of the massive being captivated Serge and Luccia as Grobyc stared at the two appendages emerging in the wake of the mask. Grobyc's gaze drifted upwards to the shimmering green emerald encased in cold steel in the being's forehead. Looking over the emerging appendages again, Grobyc noticed that each had a similar jewel encased in their form, one blue and one red. Grobyc understood. "It is testing Serge," the robot stated. "Perhaps it will test Grobyc and Luccia as well." Lachesis' voice returned to them, floating on the air and through their minds as it cried out its challenge.

"Serge," it said, "art thou worthy of accepting thy fate? Art thou worthy of being 'Chrono Trigger'?" Serge readied his swallow, understanding that this test, as with so many in the past, would not be achieved through words alone. The mask drifted into the air, circling the three comrades slowly, as the being's appendages began circling them at a lower altitude in the opposite direction. All three warriors backed away slowly from these new boundaries. Luccia, Serge, and Grobyc, backs to each other, jerked their heads about, wary of any strike from their immense assailant. Suddenly, the entity ceased its movement. The appendages came to a gradual halt on either side of the enigmatic mask. The three pieces as a whole then drifted softly to a position between the trio and the stone footpath from which they had come. The mask faced Serge, gently rocking back and forth in an apparent state of bliss as Serge tightened his grip upon his weapon.

The appendage bearing the red jewel lashed out at Serge, bearing down with great speed, and Serge dove towards the ground. Unable to move fast enough, Serge was, at the last second, knocked aside by Grobyc. The robot grabbed a hold of the charging appendage as it struck his metallic body, holding it in place. Grobyc had just consolidated his footing when the second appendage connected, carrying Grobyc's body across the clearing. With Grobyc thrust into it, the base of the statue depicting Lachesis as a nubile maiden cracked beneath the weight of the impact. Grobyc, still clutching the red-gemmed appendage, was driven further into the heart of the stony roost as he whirred and clicked, his struggle to force back his enemy apparent to even the most casual observer. Sparks shot from his torso in several locations, and a sharp crackle shot from his left shoulder, followed by a small cloud of dark smoke as various parts of his body slowly gave way under the pressure of the appendages' fearsome attack.

A faint noise grabbed Serge's attention, and he just caught sight of a handful of small projectiles bouncing harmlessly off of the mask floating above him. Serge slowly rose to his feet, shaking his head to remove the daze that dragged on his awareness, and noticed Luccia draw a handful of sharp projectiles from a loose sleeve, tossing them at the mask with a violent thrust. Again, the small darts bounced harmlessly off the surface of the creature. The mask turned to Luccia as its disembodied voice drowned out her thoughts. "Luccia," it said, "art thou worthy of accepting thy fate? Art thou worthy of carrying on thy mentor's dying flame?" The appendages released their pressure from Grobyc, allowing the damaged robot to slip to the ground amidst a rain of errant sparks. Grobyc barely managed to turn and watch the mask begin its advance towards Luccia.

Pulling her hands from her sleeves, Luccia brandished two full fists of projectiles and hurled them at the mask, but all bounced harmlessly off the creature's surface. The three-piece being floated before her, advancing on Luccia with all the urgency of a vegetative cadaver. It appeared incapable of great speeds when moving as a whole, but the mask itself soon stopped, the appendages drifting forwards. Luccia could see her reflection forming in the glossy surface of the encroaching objects. Just as the blue-gemmed appendage lashed out at her, a bulky arm flew straight into the jewel at the centre, tearing it from the appendage and causing the now defunct halves of the appendage to shatter on the stone at her feet.

Luccia pulled up her hands as shards of the demolished appendage burst into the air around her. Letting her hands drop from her face, Luccia could see the specks of blood now coating her gloves contrast against their white material, and could feel the tiny cuts and abrasions blanketing her head and neck. She turned to face Grobyc, now struggling towards her without his left arm. Turning in the other direction, Luccia could see Grobyc's arm, detached and discarded, at the far end of the clearing. Amidst intervals of static, Grobyc managed to warn Luccia with his droning voice. "Grobyc has detected that the gems provide it with power. They must be dislodged." Luccia looked back up to the mask, not at it but rather behind it, to where Serge flew through the air towards the mask's rear.

Poised to strike, Serge was fast falling towards the mask, preparing to lash out at the green gem in its head. Immersed in observing Serge's pending foray, Luccia was caught unaware as the second, unharmed appendage of the being scooped her up and carried her into the air. Before Luccia knew what was going on, the appendage thrust her body directly into Serge's, sending the two careening through the air. Luccia landed on top of Serge, both tumbling to the edge of the battlefield. Luccia groaned as she rolled from atop Serge, and noticed the young man was out cold. Collapsing on the rough ground beneath her, Luccia could barely keep her head aloft. Looking up, she could see the mask's remaining appendage approaching her from the heights it had lifted her to moments ago.

Grobyc, watching these events transpire, struggled towards the mask, trying to approach with the use of stealth while the mask had its back turned. As the mask's posterior lay defenceless before him, Grobyc drew back his remaining hand to strike. Sensing his presence, the mask quickly spun forward, pulling Grobyc off his feet and sending the robot tumbling into the bowl-like depression of the mask itself. Shaking back and forth, the mask jostled Grobyc violently until again spinning forward, flinging the robot as if from a catapult. Grobyc flew across the clearing, smashing into the bust of Lachesis' statue and taking the head clean off. Grobyc fell to the earth alongside the dislodged head of the statue, acrid smoke streaming from his open wounds. The robot lay paralysed, his attempts to move resulting in nothing more than the severe twitching of his limbs.

The being, after watching the wretched robot that had destroyed Atropos' incarnation be thoroughly routed, turned to face the woman draped in white whose earlier attempts to inflict the equivalent of human pain upon it had failed miserably. It had nothing to fear from this puny creature. If anything, it envied the humans. It envied their emotions, their camaraderie, but most of all it envied their physical senses. It especially envied their ability to hear approaching footsteps.

Several gunshots burst upon the surface of the remaining appendage, knocking it back with each impact. The red gem in the centre of the appendage, now cracked and partially ousted from its heavy encasement, turned to face Norris, standing at the entrance to the clearing. Norris took one final shot and the gem exploded into hundreds of tiny fragments. The mask slowly turned to face the man who had come to annoy it, approaching Norris at an interminably slow speed. Norris unleashed another cascade of shots from his pistol, each one striking the unmistakable target of the mask. Each shot's echo intertwined with the sound of each bullet bouncing away from the surface of the creature. Small chips of the mask's fragile outer layers began lightly coating the ground, but Norris noticed that the closer the creature got, the more his vision was plagued by a blanketing green hue.

As the green tint in his vision began to blank out the minute details of his surroundings, Norris began to feel weak, his sudden weariness taking its toll on his original furor. His shots slowed, his firing became frighteningly inaccurate, and he was forced to his knees by the mere weight of his body. Norris' pistol slipped from his hand and clattered on the ground as he heard the voice in his head. "Norris," it said, "art thou worthy of accepting thy fate? Art thou worthy of the peace you seek?" Then, as the voice in his head once again became his own, Norris heard it demanding a deep, irrefutable sleep. He feared he would not have the strength to wake from such a slumber, but had not the strength to stave it off. Norris' eyes drew closed, and the image of the mask, now burned into his mind's eye, taunted him from the darkness.

Norris was suddenly awakened by the entire weight of the sun's heavy rays beating down upon his face, the pure, white light overpowering even the thick veil of his eyelids. The sun shone without the hindrance of the terrible green veil that had earlier stifled his vision, and Norris could see the mask hovering before him, no longer approaching him with unstoppable imminence. Rather, it stayed in place, unmoving. Norris ran his gaze up the length of the creature, his eyes eventually falling on the green gem in the mask's forehead. As the creature began to shudder in short spates, Norris could make out a sharp projectile lodged in the creature's brow, between the green gem and its metallic casing. Looking behind the fitful creature he could see Luccia sitting up against a tree. A sense of urgency overtook him as he noticed drops of blood slowly staining the neck of her lab coat.

Lining up one last shot, Norris felt his finger begin to twitch towards the trigger. It took most of his strength to keep himself from letting off a burst of fire prematurely, and the rest of his strength to keep his aim true. He could feel the energy building inside him. The glow started at the furthest tip of the muzzle, slowly building itself into a blinding sphere of yellow light. The sphere continued growing as several small, sharp snaps accompanied the tiny bolts of energy shooting from the brightly glowing sphere to the muzzle of the gun. As Norris closed one eye and stared down the sights of his pistol with the other, he whispered a simple mantra. "Squeeze," Norris breathed, "don't pull."

His finger closed around the trigger as if the tighter he squeezed the more pain he'd inflict. A ball of swirling energy burst forth, its yellow essence cascading through the air it as it rushed forward. The shot tore a massive hole in the creature's forehead, destroying the creature's glittering green gem. The mask soon turned to dust, blowing away upon the salty sea breeze that had picked up in the wake of Norris' attack. Norris rushed past the slain creature to Luccia's side, brushing shreds of shrapnel from her face. "Are you all right?" Norris asked, hurrying to get her to her feet. Luccia brushed him off, pointing to Serge.

"Help him first." Luccia said. Norris rushed over to Serge, shaking him in an attempt to wake him. Luccia struggled to her feet, wiping the dust from her sleeves. She pulled a dainty white handkerchief from her pocket, and as she wiped the fast-drying streaks of blood from her face and neck she found herself wishing she had let Norris lift her from the ground. Luccia was uncharacteristically disappointed at missing an opportunity to enjoy Norris' touch, but it struck her as odd how quickly he had moved from her side to Serge's, simply anxious to help anyone. Drifting further with her thoughts, Luccia now realised that Norris must have found this place simply by seeking out the noise that Grobyc had made when first tangling with the enemy. Her brooding was cut short as, behind her, Luccia heard Serge stir, so she turned to face him as he rose to his feet. The three wandered over to where Grobyc lay beside the head of Lachesis' statue. Sparks shot from Grobyc's neck as the robot turned his head to face the three of them.

"G-Grobyc is-is…Gro-Gro-Grooooobyc—" The sudden 'snap' of a circuit overloading cut short the robot's attempts to speak.

"Ve must carry him from here," Luccia stated frankly. "I must set to vork on him immediately." Serge and Norris bent over, lifting the heavy robot from the ground. Carrying Grobyc with them, the two soon caught up with Luccia, hefting Grobyc's arm in hers. Luccia motioned for Norris and Serge to begin making their way back to their boat just as the ground began to shake. Luccia turned to the demolished statue of Lachesis, looking past it to where the massive cascade of water that marked the centre of the Sea of Eden was gradually drying up. Luccia was tempted to stay and watch the spectacle that was unfolding before her, but noticing the worried looks on Norris and Serge's faces she decidedly gathered up what pieces of Grobyc she could and hurried after Serge and Norris, now lugging Grobyc between them down the winding stone path.

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The flames crackled softly as the fire's light cast eerie shadows across Grobyc's face. His head turned and he watched as Luccia busied herself with the repairs to his left shoulder, from which his arm was still detached. Grobyc lifted his eyes from Luccia, adamantly poring over his circuits, and looked out across the rough landscape before him. In the distance, silhouetted against the pale white moon in the sky, was a massive research complex. The welcome sign that had greeted Serge as he explored the dirt beach bordering the lush green meadows around the complex had labelled the facility 'Chronopolis'. As his repairs continued, Grobyc's gaze drifted down the length of the small island's coastline, to the long line of small fires dotting the landscape. Beside each one sat a tent, testament to the gathering of people on the island. This had been Serge's doing, in response to the heavy security he had found watching over all entrances to the complex. To get at the answers inside, Serge intended to storm the gates of the facility tomorrow morning, alongside every single person who travelled with him.

Luccia herself knew it would be an unheard of feat, if it were pulled off. As she looked up from her repairs and followed Grobyc's stare down the coast to the string of tents that had emerged in the span of only a few days, Luccia shook her head. This many people, from all walks of life, all rushing headfirst into battle at once. She knew it would be a sight to be seen. If it were pulled off, of course, something she still doubted could happen. She was to charge alongside Grobyc, an undisputed killing machine, so she was not worried about her own safety. Others, however, many of whom she'd gotten to know rather well, were not so lucky. Luccia attempted to cease her wandering thoughts by returning her attention to Grobyc's repairs, but she could not concentrate. A part of Luccia yearned to remain uninvolved, following Serge into battle to observe the outcome as a detached third party. Another, larger, part of her filled with deep concern over one person specifically, a concern she had spent the last few days contemplating. Her desire to find the right words before she said anything to him had led her to this: a base manipulation of her own creation.

Much to Luccia's surprise, the object of her concerns suddenly appeared in front of her bearing Grobyc's left arm. "Here you are," Norris said. "It's all fixed up and good as new." Norris looked up at Grobyc as he spoke, offering the arm to him. Grobyc grabbed hold of it with his good hand and planted the arm firmly in its socket, causing Luccia to jerk her head back as she narrowly dodged the incoming limb. The sounds of whirring and clacking from within the arm let the three know that the reattachment was successful, and Grobyc was soon twisting the arm back and forth. Luccia looked over at Norris as the man watched Grobyc's recovery.

"It looks as if you've done an excellent job on Grobyc's arm," Luccia said. "It appears you know more about Grobyc's systems dan you originally tought." Norris looked Grobyc up and down, speaking as he did.

"Well," Norris replied, turning to face her, "I have always had an admirable skill with mechanical devices, but you… you have completely repaired him in such a short time. Incredible!"

"Tank you very much for your help vitt the repairs."

"It was no trouble at all," Norris stated, sitting down on the ground as he did. "How are you, Grobyc?" Norris asked, looking up at the robot's cold, white eyes. "Are you feeling better? It seems that Luccia has actually improved upon your original design somewhat."

"Correct. Luccia has installed a new program into Grobyc's central system," Grobyc told Norris. Norris looked up at the robot's blank expression as Luccia gasped.

"She has?" Norris asked.

"Yes," Grobyc responded before Luccia could react. "Luccia has programmed Grobyc to monitor Commander Norris' actions in order to compile a psychological profile—" Grobyc's explanation was cut short as the sound of a power source dying cut through the air. Grobyc, though still active, became silent. Mere static emerged from Grobyc's mouth as Luccia pulled herself down from where she had climbed up on Grobyc's shoulders, releasing the wires that she had moments ago been busy rooting through. She closed a small panel on the back of Grobyc's neck and smiled at Norris, though her bright red cheeks betrayed her thorough humiliation. Patting Grobyc's arm playfully, Luccia casually waved a hand at Norris.

"I am so sorry. I have no idea vhere dat outburst came from. Dere is obviously an error in the repairs, Commander Norris" Luccia stated. "It shall not happen again, I can assure you."

"It was not your fault," Norris declared in an attempt to console the embarrassed woman. "Do not worry about it. But please, call me Norris from now on."

"Very well," Luccia replied. With this settled, Norris shifted his gaze past where Luccia stood, angrily reconnecting Grobyc's circuits, to the distant horizon behind her. He soon heard the static coming from Grobyc's mouth stop, and Grobyc, on the orders of Luccia, began his silent trek back to her tent. Watching the stars as they emerged from behind a wispy cloud, Norris did not break the overbearing silence even as Luccia took a seat on the ground next to him. Her gaze darting between Norris and the ground in front of her, Luccia shuffled the words around inside her head, struggling to place them in a sequence that would offer her the best results of conveying her message. Just as she felt she had found an acceptable order, Norris interrupted her, sending the words tumbling back into the depths of her mind.

"Why would you program Grobyc to observe me?" Norris asked.

"I, I… I am curious, Norris," Luccia hesitantly replied. "I badly vish to learn how it is dat you and your otter form are almost exactly the same amidst the many differences of the two vorlds dat exist, but dat is no excuse for my actions. I owe you an apology. To have Grobyc observe you vittout your permission vould be a violation of the standards of experimental science dat I have vehemently upheld my entire life."

"Why force yourself to do something you believe is wrong?" Norris asked.

"You must understand," Luccia replied, hanging her head, "our experiences here in the Sea of Eden have caused a change in me; a change for the vorse. In our last battle, vhen I experienced pain such as I had never felt before, and nearly vitnessed you and Grobyc both killed, I vas overcome vitt the feeling dat vhat I had been doing in my life so far vas not enough. Vhile I vas repairing Grobyc, dis feeling overpowered my better judgement. I realised dat my life as a scientist had been defined by observation of specimens, so I created Grobyc's new program in order to observe you. But speaking vitt you like dis only justifies my doubts. I must erase Grobyc's new program immediately. Again, Norris, I apologise for my recent lapse in judgement." Luccia, still stricken with guilt, looked up as Norris placed a hand on her shoulder, and was surprised to find the man smiling.

"I'm glad that you told me the truth," Norris replied. Luccia simply smiled in response, releasing a hushed sigh of longing before speaking.

"Norris," Luccia said, "the truth is dat I envy you. Most of us who accompany Serge have not had the opportunity to meet demselves in the otter vorld. I must admit dat I am extremely curious as to the fate of my otter self, and vot a meeting between us might be like. Tell me, vot has become of me in your vorld?" The smile faded from Norris' lips as his eyes darted away from Luccia to the sea before him. Struggling to find the right words, Norris found that, despite his best attempts, he could not break himself. He had to tell her the truth.

"In my world, Luccia, you are dead," Norris declared. Luccia gasped.

"I am truly dead? And vot of Grobyc? Surely he is not…."

"Grobyc was destroyed," Norris answered, "along with an ancient super weapon that he was to be armed with. Four years ago." Luccia's eyes widened with surprise and she leaned towards Norris.

"Really?" Luccia asked, her voice rich with its natural inquisitiveness. "Did I create Grobyc in de otter vorld as vell?"

"Yes," Norris stated as he turned his head to look at Luccia. In response, Luccia lifted her hand to her chin, pondering Norris' response while she once more turned to face the horizon. Norris simply stared at her, unsure of what to do next. His fear of the pandemonium that would follow in the wake of Luccia's inevitable interrogation for details kept him stone-faced and silent, with even his breath coming to a brief standstill. As she again turned to face him, Norris struggled to hide his obvious concern from Luccia's gaze. Norris feared the worst. Once Luccia managed to discover what had happened to her other self, she would blame him, berate him, and most certainly cast him and his excuses from her sight. At least, that was what he expected.

"I tink," Luccia uttered, "I tink I am pleased by dat." Norris simply blinked, unsure that he'd properly heard what she'd said. Norris shook his head in disbelief as he spoke.

"I beg your pardon. What did you just say?"

"I said," Luccia repeated, "dat I am pleased dat my otter self is not active." Norris still could not believe what he was hearing.

"The fact that you are dead in my world pleases you!" Norris cried, almost spitting the words in disgust.

"Vot! No!" Luccia shouted in response. She then collected herself, and attempted to calmly explain. "Of course I am unhappy dat my otter self is dead, but the more I tink on it, the more I tink dat, if I vere still alive in your vorld, I vould have to measure up to my otter self's success. Her accomplishments vould reflect poorly on me, and a needless competition vould arise. Dat is something I do not vish to experience. Surely it is something dat you have recently experienced, no?"

"Well, no," Norris muttered. "I can't say that I have."

"Dat is strange," Luccia remarked. "For the Norris of my vorld feels dat he is being overshadowed by you, seeing as he is unable to accompany Serge the vay you have." Norris looked at her quizzically.

"How do you know this?" Norris inquired.

"He told me of his reaction to meeting you, to learning about you, to helping you, as vell as his actions and language after you left for the first time, and all carry vitt dem the weight of jealous toughts and an anxious mind. I observed dis change over the course of many days." Norris laughed in response to this, prompting Luccia to nervously adjust her monocle. After a hearty laugh, Norris quickly composed himself.

"I am sorry," Norris managed while wiping a tear from his eye, "but I find it amusing that you would observe my other self so openly, and yet hesitate to observe me without a veil of secrecy and the use of Grobyc. Why have such a double-standard?" Norris turned to face Luccia, a broad smile on his face. The smile disappeared suddenly, however, as Norris noticed Luccia had turned her back to him. Norris back-pedalled "I am sorry for speaking out of turn, Luccia, I merely—" Norris stopped as he heard Luccia begin chuckling.

"No, you're right," said Luccia. "It is ratter funny. I had not tought of it dat vay until now, and until now I had not tought of a reason vhy eitter. There is a reason for the strange duality of my actions, but it had not occurred to me before."

"Oh really?" asked Norris. "And what reason is that?" Luccia turned to face Norris once more before responding.

"A part of me has realised dat you are not appropriate for observation. Scientific study requires objectivity, but I cannot be objective vitt you because of the relationship you and I have developed over the course of our time vitt Serge. Perhaps a better vay to put it," Luccia stated, adjusting her monocle as she did so, "is dat I find myself to be quite fond of you. You are very handsome, and your ridiculously zealous attempts at nobility are not only amusing but also quite pleasing. I find comfort in your company, vhich is an unusual occurrence for one such as myself." By this time Norris was prepared to leap right into Luccia's waiting arms, but his lingering self-doubt, harassing him ever more frequently these days, stifled his movement. Even Norris' expression had changed only slightly, from one of confusion to one of surprise.

"That was very…honest…of you…." was all that Norris could muster. Norris regretted the words the moment he said them, but he was so overwhelmed at that point by the questions he had spent the last few days ignoring that he found himself unable to muster anything more. Trailing off, Norris could spot the hint of dejection in Luccia's face as she turned away. After a few moments of silence, Luccia rose from the ground in order to depart. Norris felt sparks firing inside his head in an attempt to get him to rectify his mistake immediately, so he grabbed Luccia's wrist, preventing her from leaving his company. Luccia turned to stare at him, expecting him to say something, but Norris still couldn't overcome the memories that were tying his tongue. Luccia, now growing impatient, tried to pull herself free of Norris' grasp, only to find that he gripped harder with each of her attempts.

"Let go, Norris," Luccia demanded. Norris looked up at Luccia, the words falling on his ears like stones in a pond, rippling through his thoughts and growing larger with each passing second. He had to let go. Even if only for now, he had to let go. This was the second chance he'd been vying for since meeting this Luccia, and he was about to throw it away over memories of the past. Norris stared at the reflection of himself in Luccia's monocle in order to make sure he was actually saying what he thought he was saying.

"I can't let go," Norris said. "At least not until I've done this." Norris pulled on Luccia's arm, bending her over towards himself. Then, straining upwards, Norris planted a tentative kiss on Luccia's lips. Norris found himself finally able to concentrate on loving this woman without interference from his memories, and so he continued to kiss Luccia until she finally relinquished her hesitancy and opened her mouth to him. They kissed passionately, feverishly, as Norris' gloved hands moved up to Luccia's cheeks. Slowly, their lips parted, and both opened their eyes to each other's stares. As Norris stood up, Luccia smiled softly and turned to face the sea surrounding the island. Norris, wrapping one arm around Luccia, also turned towards the water, and together the two watched the stars blazing brightly in the night sky above the horizon. As Luccia dropped her head to one side, cradling it on Norris' shoulder, the small fire behind them faded and died, allowing the stars they watched to burn even brighter.

------------------------

Grobyc watched from the shadows as the flap of the tent flew open. In walked Luccia and Norris, both oblivious to Grobyc's presence in the corner of the tent. The two moved towards the bed, locked in each other's arms. Luccia lay back on the bed, setting aside her hairpiece and letting her monocle dangle loosely at her waist, as Norris leaned forward, slowly placing an arm on either side of the woman beneath him as he leaned in for another kiss. Closing his eyes, Norris soon came up against her skin, but he could feel a difference between this touch and the passionate embrace he had experienced earlier. Opening his eyes, Norris could see Luccia's head turned away from him, staring off into the depths of the hut around them, while she held a single finger up to his lips in order to keep them a safe distance from her own. Norris backed off. "What is the matter?" he asked, trying to follow Luccia's stare.

"Do you not hear sometting?" Luccia asked, her eyes still searching the tent. As Norris drew silent he became aware of his own heavy breathing. Holding his breath, Norris could soon hear the source of Luccia's distress. It was a quiet whirring, overdrawn with an occasional click or snap, as if a mechanical device somewhere nearby struggled to absorb new information. Grobyc soon emerged from the shadows, his feet thudding heavily on the ground. Grobyc simply stared blankly at the two on the bed with his hollow eyes as the whirring and clicking of his internal systems continued. The two stared back, their faces turning red with embarrassment. "Vot are you doing, Grobyc?" Luccia asked the robot.

"Grobyc is observing Commander Norris as part of Grobyc's new program." This response prompted Luccia to abruptly sit up, sending Norris over the side of the bed and onto the floor. As Norris leapt up, hurriedly drawing his jacket back over his shoulders, Luccia grabbed her monocle from where it dangled at the end of its cord and placed it back on her face. Norris simply stared at Grobyc, his slack-jawed mouth gaping at the robot. Soon, Norris felt himself being pushed out of the tent. He turned his head and saw Luccia, now standing at his side, urgently pushing him out. Before Norris could react, he was standing outside, alone.

Inside the tent, Luccia stood before Grobyc, spouting obscenities as she kicked him in the legs. Grobyc, unconcerned by this assault, looked down at Luccia, her stream of guttural obscenities once again slowly becoming understandable words. "You stupid fucking robot!" she growled, still staring down at Grobyc's legs as she kicked them. Eventually her kicks slowed, and Luccia slumped forward, letting her head come to rest on Grobyc's chest as her heavy breathing echoed through the quiet tent. "I am sorry, Grobyc. Just…just let me sleep. I shall have much explaining to do in the morning." With that, Luccia lifted her head off of Grobyc and flopped her body down on her bed, her earlier exertions causing her to fall fast asleep.

------------------------

Luccia stared up at the vertical path of the complex's elevator platform. She had watched as, after she, Serge, and Norris had stepped off the platform here in the basement of the facility, the empty elevator immediately rose back up into the heart of Chronopolis as if summoned to the surface by an unknown person. She had kept a close eye on the elevator the entire time she had been down here, hoping that it would soon return to this level carrying whomever it was that had summoned it above. The elevator could very easily have been summoned by any one of the many people that had stormed the gates of Chronopolis with Serge, but she was hoping that whoever had summoned it was Grobyc. It had been too long, she felt, since they had left Grobyc behind with that strange machine. When Norris first laid eyes on the mysterious device, apparently once a weapon in the possession of the Porre military, he'd acted as if he had seen a ghost. Grobyc, at his own insistence, stayed behind to study its presence further, and perhaps find a way to put it to use. It had, Grobyc told them, been modified at one time to operate in conjunction with his original hardware, and the modifications were not hard to accomplish. It had been some time since they had left Grobyc behind, though. She was worried.

Behind her, Luccia could hear the sound of a computer chirping. Turning around, she noticed Serge push a button on the face of the door now blocking the path that would lead them to the heart of Chronopolis, and to the answers Serge sought. All three of them nearly jumped in the air when, after the button was pressed, the door began speaking. A soft, soothing female voice cut in and said "Only personnel registered as 'Arbiter' may enter. Please conduct a security check for verification." Then the voice disappeared. Serge stood dumbfounded for a few moments, simply staring at the door that had spoken to him. Norris broke Serge's stupor by tapping him lightly on the shoulder and pointing to his left, where a large sign reading 'Security Checkpoint' was planted above a strange looking machine. Serge's face lit up as he wandered over to the sign, staring at the panel planted in the wall immediately below it. Serge pushed a simple green button separated from the dials and warning labels amidst the panel, and the soothing female voice again emerged.

"Fingerprint and Retina scan required," it said, "please step inside the circle and hold up your left hand." Serge looked down at his feet and carefully positioned them in the middle of the circle printed on the floor. As he looked up at the wall panel, Serge removed the glove from his left hand and held it aloft in the direction of the strange machine. Suddenly, the circle in which Serge stood lit up and a section of the wall panel moved aside, revealing a strange projection device. The device shot a tiny beam of light straight into Serge's left eye and slowly scanned his hand from a distance. As the device buzzed with activity, the beam shooting into Serge's eye shut off. "Analysing," the machine stated, "please stand by." Serge simply blinked a few times, trying to shrug off the effects of having the beam of light in his eye. When the activity sounding from within the machine finally cut out, Serge lowered his hand, more than a little concern present in his eyes.

"Analysis complete," the female voice said. "Fingerprints, Retina, and C class DNA all clear. Data discrepancies due to aging are within permissible range. 96 confirmation that this individual is the last registered 'Arbiter'." Serge's mouth hung open as the scanning device retreated back within the wall from which it had emerged and was once again covered over by the wall panel. The light of the circle at his feet faded, so Serge stepped out of it and walked slowly towards the door to his right.

"So dat is vhy Lynx needed Serge's form!" Luccia cried.

"Lynx must be inside already," added Norris, a hint of fear present in his voice. Serge walked up to the door and once again pressed the button on the face of it. Watching in silence as the circuits within the door again began chirping, Luccia noticed Serge cross his fingers. Norris clenched his fists tight, barely unable to hold back the anxiety over what awaited within the next room. Finally, the silence was broken by the female voice of the door. "Access Granted," it said as the door slowly slid aside and into the wall. "Welcome back, Chrono Trigger." The three slowly approached the open door, staring into the darkness beyond. Each of them could barely discern in the darkness a faint orange glow, beckoning them onwards. As Serge led them down the hall, too thin to allow even two of them to walk abreast, the white lights of a distant room soon began augmenting the strengthening orange glow. An image of a large, brightly lit room at the end of the hall soon emerged. The three reached the threshold of the room, the lights from within so bright that all of them had to squint just to discern the faintest of shapes.

"Vhere are ve!" Luccia shouted, trying to raise her voice above the pervasive din coming from the machinery that lined every surface of the room. As their eyes adjusted, all three looked up to the massive contraption in front of them. Their eyes traced every inch of it as their gazes each came to rest on the very centre of the device, where the source of the strong orange glow that had beckoned them forward now sat.

"Is that…the Frozen Flame!" Norris shouted. The response to his question seemed to emerge from the very air around him, a seemingly sentient voice without a visible body.

"Exactly," a male voice stated. Both Luccia and Norris began looking frantically in every direction, trying to discern the source of the voice. Unbeknownst to either of them, Serge simply continued to stare longingly at the Frozen Flame, as if the relic commanded his gaze at the expense of all else. Despite this, the disembodied voice continued to taunt them. "The hearer of people's prayers…the provider of riches, fame, and power…the bestower of eternal life…the promiser of peace and happiness…." As the voice trailed off, Serge's gaze drifted down to the base of the massive machine that held the Frozen Flame. On the ground, Serge could barely make out a limp form lying prone beside the base of the machine. Before Serge could attempt to approach this person, a body materialised in front of him. Serge jumped back. Floating in front of his very eyes was a mirror image of himself, a replication of even the tiniest detail of his physique, yet the essence of the creature was everything he was not. As Norris and Luccia finally took note of the new arrival, both cried out in unison, rushing to Serge's side as they did so.

"Lynx!" they yelled.

"What took you so long?" was Lynx's smug reply. As he glided softly to the ground, Lynx continued. "You had me worried. Worried that you might have perished on the way here." As Lynx finished, Serge's eyes went wide with fear. Looking over Lynx's shoulder he could now see that Kid's was the pale body lying still at the base of the massive contraption containing the Frozen Flame. Before Norris could grab hold of Serge in an effort to restrain him, Serge rushed forwards, around Lynx, to Kid's side. Shaking her in an attempt to rouse her, Serge's eyes widened with fear when his efforts met with no response. Lynx simply turned and watched. Luccia called out to Serge.

"Is she all right?" she asked. Serge looked up at Lynx, anger and hatred burning in his eyes as he clenched his teeth. Lynx simply smirked, as he turned his back to Serge. Looking at Luccia and Norris, both scowling at him, Lynx continued, his smirk never fading.

"It's no use. I put her soul to sleep. I had to remove any obstacle from us having this talk." To everyone's surprise, Serge suddenly leapt from his position on the ground beside Kid, lunging at Lynx with an outstretched fist. Lynx's body suddenly vanished, sending Serge tumbling forwards. As Norris caught him, barely managing to keep Serge from sprawling to the ground, Lynx reappeared, grim smirk still present on his face.

"Who are you!" Luccia yelled at Lynx. "Vot are you after!"

"You still don't know?" Lynx replied. "I am the human incarnation of FATE, the living interface of the FATE computer system. Or, put simply, I, too, am FATE!" Luccia took a step back in disbelief, and Norris gasped as Serge's eyes widened at this revelation. Luccia, in her shock, cried out.

"Vot!" Lynx drifted ever so slightly towards the three of them, causing each to take a quick step back. Grinning at his easy intimidation of the fools that had come to confront him, Lynx continued.

"14 years ago," said Lynx, "on the night of a terrible storm, the cogs began to turn. When Wazuki and Miguel came ashore on the island, they decided to seek shelter. At the time, this centre was offline due to the storm. It only took 10 minutes for the system to power back up, but by then the Flame had found you, Serge. Contact with the Flame not only healed your young body but, once the system rebooted, it would only grant access to you…the 'Arbiter'. You can't imagine the trouble this caused. On top of that, we discovered, inside FATE, a stand-alone circuit designed to start a malfunction, or, more precisely, a 'rebellion'. That hidden circuit was based on the initial Ashtear model circuit board. The circuit was programmed so that the moment FATE did detect it, it would erase all record of detection."

"Ashtear model?" Lynx looked up quizzically at Luccia, who had decided to now cut-in. "As in Lucca Ashtear?" Luccia asked timidly. At this, Lynx again viciously grinned, putting on his favourite expression.

"Ah, Dr. Lucca Ashtear…intelligent, enthusiastic…you might even go so far as to call her a mad scientist. Yes, your former mentor had her fingers deep into this pie. Well, until I killed her, that is. And now I'll kill her bothersome circuit, too. FATE! Eliminate the traitor, Prometheus!" Norris, Luccia, and Serge could only watch in awe and stand still in total helplessness as they heard a mechanical female voice fill the room.

"Affirmative. Eliminating Prometheus."

"No!" Luccia yelled out, tears welling up in her eyes. "Lucca's vork! You cannot!" Suddenly, a male voice cut in overtop of the mechanical female voice accepting instructions from Lynx.

"Serge! P-Please…for the…for the f-future of…of man…of manki-ki-ki—" The voice suddenly cut out, leaving no doubt in their minds as to its identity as Prometheus. Norris could only hang his head in mourning as Luccia removed her monocle with one hand to wipe the tears from her eyes with the other. Serge clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing to slits as he attempted to burn a hole through Lynx's smug expression with only his gaze. Letting his eyes drift to meet Serge's stare, Lynx let slip a little chuckle. Serge, boiling over with rage, drew his swallow, brandishing it menacingly at Lynx. Lynx let slip another soft laugh as he began to again float into the air.

"Idiot," Lynx said. "Destruction to those who oppose the Goddess of FATE."

"Lynx!" Norris yelled, drawing his gun. "You'll not get away with this!" All three readied themselves for battle, blood boiling and nerves tensed, as Lynx continued floating into the air above their heads. Lynx, noticing their paltry attempts at courage in what he was sure would be their last moments, stretched his arms out to his sides.

"Come, Serge!" Lynx shouted. Serge, Norris, and Luccia struggled to keep their balance as the ground beneath them shuddered. Suddenly, several massive metallic tubes shot out of the ground from beneath Lynx, impaling him with the needle-like points at their tip. Lynx's body, flailed about by the tubes, went limp, and only a network of thick cables held it aloft. All three onlookers simply stared in wonder as the circuitry lining each of the tubes lit up; the floor's many layers began peeling back like a blossoming flower, allowing Lynx's body to plunge into the unknown beneath. With much ado, Lynx, still posing as Serge, re-emerged from beneath the floor. Now, though, Lynx towered over them with only his upper body, his lower body having been replaced with a mess of hardwiring. Lynx's skin shimmered in the light of the nearby Frozen Flame with a dark lustre, belying its new metallic nature. This new hybrid, the only remains of Lynx's human form, leaned towards Serge and spoke. "Teach me what it means to be 'alive'!"

The female voice of the computer system rang out as Lynx slowly placed his hands out in front of him, palms flat against the floor. "Commencing countdown," the voice said. "Five." Serge was the only one able to break from his trance-like state of awe, driven to action by his anger and disgust at the scenario playing out before him. Raising one hand in the air, Serge closed his eyes and opened his raised hand to the ceiling, creating a large ball of pure white light just above his palm. With his eyes closed, Serge was unable to see the floor below become covered in several concentric circles of strange writing. The circles of text, centred on Lynx's outstretched hands, began to spin in time with Serge's efforts. As the ball of light above Serge's hand grew, so did the circles spin faster, and as Serge began to drift softly into the air, dragged upwards by the energy collecting above his hand, the circles became a blur, the unusual letters no longer distinguishable from each other. Serge, now high in the air above Lynx, soon began to feel something, a strange uncertainty elicited by the unusual combination of his own pending attack and that of Lynx.

Beads of sweat formed on Serge's brow, and he had to concentrate just to keep up the power for his coming attack. Struggling against the pounding in his head, Serge continued to float upwards, opening his eyes in order to aim his assault. It was then that he caught sight of Lynx's machinations, the blurred text covering the ground beneath him. Lynx looked up at Serge, expressionless and dead-eyed, as he pulled his massive hands up from the floor. The text gradually slowed its spin, coming to a halt just it faded from view. As Lynx's attack dissipated, Serge felt the breath sucked from his lungs, his blood, until now pounding in his head, went cold, and, looking up, he could see the energy that had been building above his hand flicker and fade. Suddenly unable to summon the strength for even the smallest of assaults against his enemy, Serge felt the wind rush over his skin as he fell towards the cold, hard ground.

Norris, finally able to control his legs again, ran towards Serge, leaping forward to catch him and cushion his fall. Norris pulled Serge from mid-air, tumbling forward and skidding to a stop a few feet from Lynx's new form. Norris, pushing Serge off of himself, slipped his gun from its holster and unleashed a barrage of shots at Lynx, each bullet bouncing harmlessly off of Lynx's imposing frame. Looking down, the monstrosity towering over Serge and Norris locked eyes with them, drinking in their fearful shivering as its glossy head, shimmering in the light of the room, leaned in close towards the two. Luccia watched from a corner of the room as Lynx raised a hand over them, preparing to crush them into the floor. She turned her head, unable to watch her friends' gruesome end, as she hugged her legs tighter to her chest to try and end her body's uncontrollable shaking.

Luccia leaned back against the pillar that hid her from Lynx's sight, breathing heavily as she attempted to rationalize her actions. Lucca's death had been unconfirmed until now, and she had always held out hope for her former mentor. Norris, Serge, and even Kid sat on the brink of death. Grobyc, still absent, could only be assumed destroyed, his detached parts piled in a heap in some seldom visited corner of the massive complex under which she stood. Luccia began to shake even harder, her uncontrollable fear and hesitancy overpowering her desire to help. The female voice of the room's computer systems rang out again, interrupting her thoughts. "Four," it said.

Lynx's hand, still hovering over Serge and Norris even as they attempted to back away from it, clenched itself into a fist. Norris could see a dark haze draw over his vision as his knees buckled under the sudden weight thrust down upon him. Looking over, he could see Serge sprawled on the floor inside a small groove that perfectly matched the shape of his prone body. Norris, unable to hold himself up, fell forward onto his hands. It was then that he noticed the large dents in the floor that both his hands and his knees had created. Norris scanned the room for anything that might help the current situation. As he sank further into the floor, Norris caught sight of Luccia, leaning around a distant pillar in order to catch a glimpse of what was occurring. Norris, unable to speak, pleaded to her with his eyes, but with such a distance between the two, Norris' efforts went unnoticed. Luccia took no note of Norris' collapse to the floor, either, as her stare was drawn to the doorway leading into the room.

Norris heard a strange noise, and he felt the pressure that had been weighing down upon him disappear. Feverishly sucking in much-needed air through his nostrils, Norris gagged on the putrid stench of scorched metal. Rising to his knees, Norris looked up towards the smell and saw Lynx hold up a smoking hand. Lynx twisted his wrist, and Norris caught sight of a hole burned through Lynx's hand at an awkward angle. Norris scrambled to Serge's side and helped him up. Both stood up just as a dark blue beam burned through the air mere inches from the tops of their heads and tore through Lynx's chest, leaving a noticeable hole where Lynx's heart would be, had he any semblance of one. Lynx simply stared at the new hole in his mechanical body, watching as smoke poured forth from it. Spinning around once more, Serge and Norris broke into wide smiles as they laid eyes on Grobyc, now bearing the super-weapon banned by the Porre military on his left arm. Before Norris could thank Grobyc, his train of thought was derailed by the female voice of the room's computer system. "Three," it said.

Luccia could see the strange red light of Lynx's eyes growing bright as they scanned over Grobyc. Grobyc, hefting the bulky weapon on his shoulder with his right hand, adjusted his aim and fired at Lynx's formidable head. This time, however, Lynx jerked aside, dodging Grobyc's attack and eluding all injury but for a noticeable laceration across the side of his slick, metallic face. Thrusting his head forwards, Lynx unleashed thorough retaliation as the light of his eyes burst forth, sending two parallel lasers tearing through the air. A deafening shatter sounded as Lynx's attack connected with Grobyc's chest, sending the robot careening through the air and slamming into the wall behind him. Grobyc lifted his head, sparks shooting from his neck as he did so, to face Luccia, now at his side pulling several small tools from her pocket.

"You foolish robot!" Luccia yelled at Grobyc. "You know you cannot—"

"Luccia must move immediately," Grobyc interrupted. Before Luccia could protest, Grobyc wrapped his free hand tightly around her collar. Luccia could feel the abrasive material of her coat chafe her neck as Grobyc launched her into the air. She felt as if she were moving in slow motion, her limbs flailing wildly as she soared away from Grobyc. Luccia skidded across the ground to the sheltered corner of the room where Norris and Serge now sat. Luccia sat up, resting her weight on Norris' out stretched arm, as the searing pain shooting up through her nerves and bones went unnoticed in light of the immense torment she felt gripping her heart. She watched as Lynx unleashed another assault from his vapid eyes. It burst upon Grobyc's chest, creating a massive ball of flame as Grobyc's internal systems exploded into fragments and scattered about the room. Luccia could only watch as Lynx's onslaught faded and she saw, through the acrid smoke billowing from the massive hole in his chest, the white light that had formerly filled Grobyc's eyes replaced by darkness.

Lynx returned his attention to the three people huddling in a corner. Norris' eyes darted from Luccia's face to Serge's, and back again. "What shall we do now?" he asked. "My attacks are useless, as are Serge's it seems, and with Grobyc destroyed—"

"No!" Luccia screamed, interrupting Norris. "Not destroyed! He, I, I will fix him as soon as we leave this place. I will…he…." Luccia's breath was soon coming in shallow gasps as her face, red with distress, held an expression of utter contempt for everything she laid eyes on. Stumbling, Luccia fell to her knees, both Norris and Serge rushing to her side as she then collapsed to the ground. Kneeling beside her spent form, Norris lifted Luccia's head from the floor, cradling it in his arms. Serge, however, turned his attention back to Lynx, who now held an outstretched arm in the direction of the three huddled comrades. Both Norris and Luccia followed Serge's gaze, facing Lynx as he opened his outstretched palm towards the three. The female voice of the computer system again interrupted their thoughts. "Two," it said.

Norris barely had time to react as the ground beneath him quite literally rose to meet him. Grabbing Luccia in his arms and diving aside, Norris saw Serge lunge in the other direction out of the corner of his eye. The ground so recently beneath their feet was thrust violently into the air, taking Norris, Luccia, and Serge all with it. Norris and Luccia were sent diving into the wall right next to Grobyc's lifeless shell as Serge's battered body rolled to a stop right next to Kid. Luccia was torn from her forced slumber by the burning in her lungs. Regaining her awareness, Luccia noticed she and Norris were shrouded in the smoke pouring forth from Grobyc. Hearing him cough, Luccia looked over at Norris. Letting her gaze trail down the length of his body, Luccia caught sight of a large shard of metal deeply wedged into Norris' thigh. Mildly prodding the wound with an inquisitive finger, Luccia heard Norris groan in pain. Raising her hand to her face, Luccia could barely make out the deep red stain soaking into her glove. Tears from the smoke and pain were now dripping down her face, and she felt her breath once again coming short and shallow.

Feeling herself ready to succumb to the pain now wracking her body, Luccia clutched at her chest as a shot of scorching heat rushed through the garments under her lab coat and over her skin. Clutching at the pain, Luccia felt her fingers meet resistance as they came up against a strange object stuffed into a pocket inside her jacket. Pulling out the object, Luccia rested her eyes on the small, pliable amoeba that she had secured so long ago in Viper Manor. The amoeba, usually so placid and calm, was now bucking to and fro within its test tube, and Luccia could feel the heat that had ripped across her chest now blistering her hand. It was clear that the amoeba was the source, but why it had acted up so suddenly she was unsure. The scientist within her cut through Luccia's clouded thoughts with an intense curiosity about what would happen if the amoeba were released in such a state. Knowing this was the first clear thought she had had since learning of Lucca's murder, Luccia felt obliged to obey.

Lynx stared at Serge, now lying motionless beside Schala's clone. Lynx could feel a twinge of guilt pass through his processors, a side effect of his many days as a human slave of Nature. Before Lynx could fully enjoy crushing them like ants, however, another wave of emotion passed through him: apprehension. Turning to the deposed remnants of the Arbiter's motley crew, Lynx could easily discern the woman's white suit, now stained and torn, against the backdrop of thick, black smoke. Lynx strained to look at the small object in her hand, but he hand no chance to study it before the object was speeding towards his face. The test tube shattered as it hit him, splashing the gooey contents across Lynx's otherwise untarnished forehead. Slowly, the amoeba spread down to Lynx's mouth, working its way inside until fully absorbed and sinking through the depths of Lynx's circuitry.

Lynx's head jerked back, sparks shooting from parts of his body as his hands rose to his face. The female voice of the computer system cut in. "Alien organism detected within operating systems" it said. "Beginning assimilation." Luccia, worried that her legs would soon give out on her, anxiously watched Lynx writhe under the influence of Luccia's probing protozoa. The din still dampening all sound within the room soon reached a fevered pitch as Lynx's systems struggled against the invasive creature. Suddenly, Lynx's struggle ceased. Lynx eased his head forward, and the sparking that had defined his struggle with Luccia's amoeba was no longer present. As Lynx's arms came to rest at his sides once more, the female voice of the computer system broke in. "Organism successfully assimilated," it said. Luccia's expression darkened as her final gamble failed. With nothing left, Luccia felt her legs give out from under her. But before all hope could abandon her, Luccia heard a large group of footsteps heading towards her, the thud of swarms of heavy boots suddenly cutting through the sound of buzzing machinery.

Luccia turned her head in the direction of the room's only entrance, hidden behind the black smoke from which she had emerged, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw her former employer, General Viper, burst out of the smoke at the head of his beloved Acacia Dragoons. General Viper caught sight of Luccia, and as Karsh and Marcy emerged from the smoke behind him, Viper grabbed the arm of a nearby Dragoon and sent him rushing to her aid. Glenn, now out of the smoke as well, was hot on the heels of the dragoon, both lifting her from the floor. "Where is Commander Norris?" Glenn asked her hurriedly.

"In…in the smoke, Glenn." At her response, Glenn rushed from her side and back into the cloud of thick smoke still hiding Grobyc and Norris as it rose to the heights of the cavernous room. Looking over at General Viper, Luccia smiled, the weight of worry lifted from her shoulders as the General returned her smile in kind.

"Good to see you're still alive, Doctor," Viper called to her, "but I'm afraid I've no time to chat!" Viper lifted his sword in the air, the bright blade reflecting the pale orange light of the nearby Frozen Flame. As his arm dropped, bringing the sword back down to his side, Viper let loose a resounding cry of "Charge!" With Karsh and Marcy at his side, Viper led his Dragoons towards Lynx, still hovering over Serge and Kid. It was then that the female voice of the computer system piped up.

"One," it said. Lynx's open palms shot out towards the newly arrived troops, and a massive sphere of dark energy suddenly appeared in each. Small streaks of purple lightning crackled across the surface of the spheres as they shot forward from Lynx's hands, beams of light curving in their wake. As one, the Dragoons and their leader skidded to a halt, attempting to scatter in the face of this insurmountable offensive, but the attack came so fast that many simply collided with each other in a frenzied attempt to flee. The two spheres tore through the ranks of Dragoons, scattering them into the air and throwing them into the walls of the room. Sent careening towards the Frozen Flame, one Dragoon was simply vaporised. Still more landed at the foot of Lynx's new incarnation and became easy fodder for the living weapon as Lynx's shattering blows crushed them. Broken, what Dragoons remained chaotically retreated from the room. Lynx, still revelling in his luck at encountering such easy prey, felt joy wash over his organic circuits as he witnessed the three Dragoon leaders, Karsh, Marcy, and the General himself, groping blindly towards safety.

Luccia, sitting beside the faceless Dragoon that had led her to cover during the General's charge, watched Lynx scan his glowing eyes over Karsh and Marcy as they struggled with dragging an unconscious Viper back towards the room's exit. Lynx stretched a single hand out towards the three, preparing a decisive final attack. Before Lynx could gather his concentration for an attack, however, several gunshots burst upon the surface of his head. Though each shot glanced harmlessly off of Lynx, he recoiled under the barrage, pulling his hands up to shield his face. Peeking through an opening in his fingers, Lynx stared down at the two figures emerging from the cloud of smoke smothering Grobyc's vicinity. The outer layers of the cloud peeled away as Glenn emerged, carrying a trigger-happy Norris on his back. Glenn halted mid-step, however, noticing for the first time the chaotic array of his fellow Dragoons, injured or killed, and the decrepit state of General Viper and two of his Devas.

Norris let slip a cry of shock and pain as Glenn roughly dropped him to the ground. Glenn turned to meet Norris' unappreciative glare with his own, and spoke harshly to Norris through gritted teeth. "Get out of my way," Glenn growled. Norris, taken aback, remained unmoved until Luccia finally beckoned him to where she sat. Hopping over, his weight resting entirely on his good leg, Norris looked over his shoulders at Glenn as he heard the young knight draw his swords. Collapsing forward into Luccia's arms, Norris watched in silence as Glenn attempted to stare down Lynx, the twin Einlanzers dangling loosely from his hands.

Lynx examined his sole remaining opponent, admiring the pair of swords he wielded. On the inside, Lynx could feel his human remnants laughing loudly at this ludicrous scene. The thought of confrontation with the 'Arbiter', a heavily armed robot, an invasive creature, an army of Dragoons, and now this single headstrong human, amused it to no end. This, he felt, was the most fun he'd had in a very long time, even though these errant opportunists had been so tenacious that his many well-planned accomplishments had even bordered on challenging at times. Now, to be able to casually crush this last obstruction at whim, and in peace, almost disappointed him. It seemed so anti-climactic. If only the 'Arbiter' had been more sporting, surely this would all have cumulated in one big, spectacular conclusion. It would be so much more satisfying that way. Alas, as Lynx extended a hand towards Glenn to prepare his next attack, he conceded to his better sensibilities and decided to take the most direct course of action.

What caught Lynx's attention next, however, was not the sound of gasping from a sheltered corner of the room, or even the red glow growing in Glenn's eyes, but the almost imperceptible sound of metal scraping across the floor. Jerking his head towards where he had disposed of Kid, Lynx was shocked to discover that Serge no longer rested beside her. Lynx continued turning, beckoned by the sound of tapping metal. Twisting to look over his shoulder, Lynx was unable to convey the admiration, shock, and fear that he felt with his static facial features. Behind Lynx stood Serge, impatiently tapping the tip of his swallow against the floor. Jerking his head around once more, Lynx stared back down at Glenn, his hatred and vengeance so overpowering that Glenn could almost see it in his eyes as he rushed towards the pool of blood at the base of Lynx's towering body.

Lynx watched the knight streak towards him, leaving a faint red glow in his wake. He could feel both of the knight's swords strike some of the cables attaching his body to the hidden mechanical infrastructure beneath the floor as he felt the 'Arbiter' begin to gut the rest of them. Glenn and Serge exchanged no glances as they met in the middle of their charge, each passing underneath Lynx's body and cleanly slicing through the mesh of wires beneath it. Serge skidded for several feet across the floor before finally halting his burst of speed, smearing two long streaks of stagnant blood from the pool in front of Lynx across the floor with the bottom of his boots while narrowly avoiding Lynx's body as it collapsed forward and crashed to the ground. The wires formerly holding Lynx's complex chassis aloft squirmed back and forth like worms, unleashing a shower of sparks from their severed ends. Lynx's body was soon crackling from within as several small explosions burst through his shimmering surface. Turning to observe the damage he and Serge had so deservedly inflicted on the deranged hybrid responsible for decimating the Dragoons, Glenn replaced his satisfied smirk with an exasperated frown as he laid eyes on a single cable, thicker than his arm, still connecting Lynx to his supporting hardware. The female voice of the room's computer system punctured Luccia and Norris' premature celebrations. "Zero," it said.

Lynx, supporting his entire weight on his hands, raised his head mere inches from the ground so that it faced a now thoroughly stunned Serge, catching everyone completely off-guard. The circuits within Lynx's mouth glowed bright blue as Lynx prepared to unleash a powerful beam from it. As Lynx's attack quickly charged, thin wisps of smoke began to pour from the edges of Lynx's eyes. Serge attempted to find shelter, but Lynx's head followed his every movement, and even as Serge ducked behind the cover shielding Norris, Luccia, and their Dragoon compatriot, none of them felt very confident that such flimsy protection could defend them against the coming assault now that Lynx knew where they hid. Glenn rushed towards the cable still hardwiring Lynx to his source, but was knocked aside by a thrashing cable he had severed earlier. Lynx continued charging his attack, even as his body began to quiver and the voice of the computer system pierced the chaos of the room. "Warning," it said. "Alien organism re-contaminating systems. Attempting containment and re-assimilation."

Lynx's quivering body entered into fits and starts as control of his internal systems were commandeered, no longer being used to control the charging of his attack. The charging circuits in Lynx's mouth quickly reached critical mass while the internal struggle against Luccia's vengeful amoeba drained Lynx's limited resources, until finally, in one massive convulsion, beginning in the cable still connecting him to his power source and reaching all the way up his body, Lynx's head exploded, its fragments thrust apart so violently that a few almost reached the room's distant ceiling. From the flaming wreckage emerged a tiny yellow blob that tentatively tested the air of the room before scuttling towards the exit and out into the vast complex beyond. With this, Luccia began hobbling towards Grobyc's deposed bodice, Norris hanging off of her shoulder. Norris, now entirely numb from the pain in his leg, collapsed next to the deactivated Grobyc as Luccia looked over the damage to Grobyc with an expert eye, distracted only by the sound of a great roar coming from outside the facility.

------------------------

Norris rapped lightly on Luccia's door, somewhere aboard the S.S. Invincible. As the sound of footsteps approached from behind the door, Norris took a moment to brush a spot of dirt from the sleeve of his jacket. Looking up at the sound of the door opening, Norris was more than a little surprised to see Grobyc standing in the doorway. Stepping past Grobyc into the room, Norris' confusion increased as he scanned the room for its errant resident. "Where is Luccia, Grobyc? I could not find her amidst the assault on Terra Tower. What's happened?"

"Luccia has left the ship," was Grobyc's emotionless reply. Norris jerked his head around to face Grobyc, stunned by the unexpected response.

"What?" Norris asked, weakly.

"Luccia has left the ship," Grobyc repeated.

"How odd. Why would she do such a thing? Has she even completed your repairs?"

"Luccia completed Grobyc's repairs before she left," Grobyc replied.

"So where is she?" Norris asked again.

"Grobyc cannot tell Commander Norris where Luccia is." Norris could only stare at Grobyc in response, a puzzled look on his face.

"Why can't you tell me? Don't you know where Luccia is?"

"Grobyc knows where Luccia is."

"Then where is she?" Norris repeated, this time in a loud and hurried voice.

"Grobyc cannot tell Commander Nor—"

"What's going on, Grobyc! What happened!" Norris, now yelling at the robot from inches away, felt the heat rush to his face as he stared at Grobyc. Grobyc's reply was quick in coming, though lacking intonations.

"Luccia has left the ship."

"I know Luccia has left the ship, Grobyc! You told me that already!" Norris' screams, now easily penetrating the walls of the room and alerting the young man walking along the hall outside, continued. "Why has she left the ship! Where has she gone, Grobyc! What's happened to her!" Norris soon began to shake with rage. Grobyc simply stared down into Norris' face with his usual expression, and repeated his words.

"Luccia inserted a new program into Grobyc before leaving. Grobyc cannot tell Commander Norris where Luccia is." Norris' scowl disappeared as Grobyc spoke the words 'Commander Norris' at a slower than usual pace. Norris then noticed a small flicker of light in Grobyc's eyes that he had never witnessed before from the robot. Norris continued to stare at the strange flickering even as a knock at the door threatened to interrupt his thoughts. It was Grobyc that finally drew Norris back to reality. "Would Commander Norris like Grobyc to answer the door?" Norris' head jerked back. Suddenly aware of the knocking, Norris rushed to the door and yanked it open to reveal Glenn. Glenn, surprised by Norris' flushed face and uneasy gait, stuttered his greetings.

"I am sorry to disturb you Norris, but I was just on my way to meet Serge so that we might depart for Opassa Beach and I thought I'd come and say goodbye. I know we have not known each other very long, but-- "

Before Glenn could finish, Norris grabbed the knight's arm. "Glenn," Norris said, "I'm sorry. You have found me in quite a state. I fear I'm in the middle of a rather serious situation. If I could have but a moment of your time before you leave, I would be grateful."

"Well, I suppose," Glenn replied. "What do you need?"

"Would you please ask Grobyc where Luccia is?" Glenn, taken aback by the strange request, could only glare at Norris with a cockeyed expression. "Please," Norris pleaded at seeing Glenn's reluctance.

"Very well," Glenn conceded, turning to face Grobyc. "Grobyc," Glenn said, "where is Luccia?"

"Luccia is in Viper Manor." The words were hardly out of Grobyc's mouth before Norris, fearing the worst, barged past Glenn and rushed down the hallway of the ship towards the exit. Glenn and Grobyc leaned out the door to watch as Norris ran the length of the hall, and were still there some time after the man had disappeared. Glenn could only shift nervously in the awkward silence that followed. "Well," Glenn muttered, turning to face Grobyc. "Goodbye."

------------------------

With his fears evident in his expression, Norris had quickly commandeered a raft and started his hurried trip towards Viper Manor, his concern for what might have driven Luccia to such a state easily overpowering the logical thought processes usually running through his head. Norris could only hope that Luccia, whom he loved more than anything, had not gotten into trouble during their extended parting of ways.

Separated soon after the Chronopolis incident, he'd attempted to then aid her with Grobyc's repairs the moment his wounds had healed enough to allow him to walk again. So engrossed Luccia was with Grobyc's repairs that it was as if she'd forgotten all about him. He knew that couldn't be true, so he'd helped her as best he could in the hopes that the repairs would soon be finished and he could hold her in his arms again. Alas, Serge had called him away to aid him in the assault on Terra Tower before Grobyc's repairs had finished. Returning afterwards, Norris had thought of nothing but the chance to make sure he hadn't been dreaming about the time they'd spent on the beach outside Chronopolis. Now he found her absent from her quarters, without the company of her faithful creation, Grobyc, and making notable efforts to keep him from finding her. This was too much for Norris. Every second another second without her, Norris urged his small raft on with all haste.

------------------------

As he burst through the door leading out onto the small balcony of Viper Manor's highest tower, Norris caught sight of Luccia sitting in the pool of water that stood as the centrepiece of the balcony's flowery décor, her back to the door. Submerged up to her shoulders, Luccia gave no acknowledgement of Norris' approach through the darkness even as he reached the edge of the water in which she was steeped. As Norris dropped to one knee at the side of the pool, the moonlight caught hold of Luccia's thick, indigo hair, the light of the dark moon making the hair appear to throb with life as silvery threads of white moonlight traced their way down the length of hundreds of individual strands. Norris could not resist such an intoxicating sight, but as he reached out to touch it, Luccia turned her head and the spectre faded. Her face a silhouette against the full moons, Luccia's monocle shone in the darkness from the reflection of the moonlight off the water. Luccia's voice, weak and raspy, came out slowly as she spoke.

"Vhy must you continue to harass me, Commander Norris? I have a desire to neither see nor hear you at dis or any future point in time. Do you not have some sort of feline vhich needs to be pulled from a tree or some such?"

"What are you talking about?" Norris asked. "Why did you run away from the ship without telling me? Without letting me know where you went?"

"Must I explain sometting as simple as dat to you? I vish you vould stay away from me, go back to Porre, and never force me to see your face or suffer your company again."

"Why do you say that?"

"For fear of what I might get myself into. I love you, Commander Norris, but I am scared of you at the same time. Dat is a dangerous combination."

"Afraid of me? What do you mean? Why?"

"Because you have killed me once, Commander Norris, and you may yet do it again." Norris was stunned by such a frank answer

"What?"

"My self in the otter vorld. You killed her. Dis I now know." A long pause followed Luccia's sudden spiteful admission as Norris stood up and backed off slightly from the pool. Luccia, now fully turned in the pool to face Norris, returned Norris' continued stare even as the darkness prevented either from seeing the other's eyes at such a distance. Norris simply tried to focus his eyes upon Luccia's monocle, still shining in the darkness with the light reflected from the pool.

"How…how did you find out?" Norris asked.

"It vas Grobyc who told me. Or rather, you did, through Grobyc. Though I said I vould, I did not disable all of Grobyc's data recording equipment, and he captured much of vot you said to him both before and after he vas disabled in Chronopolis, including your tale of your own vorld's Luccia, and the details of her death."

"So it's as I feared. You're scared I may do the same to you. I must say that I do not blame you. I feared the same thing myself for some time, hence my timidity for a short while after meeting you. Such a—"

"No," Luccia interrupted. "Dat is not it. Dat is not the half of it. I have braved death more dan once for you and many otter close friends. I have no fear of death. Vot I do fear is loving a man who does not concern himself vitt who I am." Norris' jaw fell open as Luccia finished. He could still not see her face as anything more than a shadow, but Norris could readily imagine the pain and hatred that was assuredly present in Luccia's eyes at this moment.

"How can you think such a thing? I, I love you, Luccia."

"No!" Luccia cried. "You love Luccia, but not me! I may have her name, her face, her voice, but I am not the Luccia you love! You came to dis vorld and discovered anotter version of the woman you both loved and killed! You feel you can simply pick up vhere you left off vittout any regard for the consequences to yourself and otters! And vorst of all…vorst of…vorst of all…." At this, Luccia began to choke up with tears, unable to continue her tirade. Norris felt warm tears begin to slowly run their way down his cheeks as his ears suffered through the pain evident in Luccia's voice, a fitting punishment, he felt, for his many lies. Yet through their tears, the two continued.

"Did you listen to everything?" Norris asked of Luccia. "Did you listen to everything I told Grobyc?"

"Yes," Luccia timidly replied.

"Then surely you know how I really feel, Luccia. I—"

"Stop!" Luccia cried, but Norris continued.

"I can't help but—"

"Stop! Stop talking!"

"Yes, I started out thinking I could just pick up where I left off, but—" By now, Norris could only yell above the noise of Luccia's frantic objections. "But I realised my mistake! I discovered that you were a different woman, and I fell in love with you anyway!" Luccia's objections abruptly stopped, and silence permeated the balcony. Luccia held her head in her hands, sobbing, as Norris continued. "I think that's what you're afraid of, and I can tell you from experience that you shouldn't be. Don't be…." As he trailed off, Norris got down on his knees beside the pool and gently pulled Luccia's hands away from her face. As he leaned in close, Norris could finally discern the features of Luccia's face through the darkness, her eyes red and puffy from the near constant crying she had put herself through earlier that day. Norris then pulled the monocle from Luccia's face and let it drop into the pool with a soft splash.

"Vhy are you doing dis to me?" Luccia whispered. Norris' only response was to lean in closer and kiss Luccia upon the lips, and action that elicited no resistance. "Vhy must you make me love you so?" Luccia asked as Norris pulled away from her face, letting slip a small grin as she spoke. Norris returned the smile in kind as he spoke.

"Luccia?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you in that pool of water?"

"I got cold."

"You got cold?"

"Yes."

"So, is the pool…?"

"The pool is vell heated in order to foster the rare plant life dat usually inhabits it."

"I see. I think you should come out now." With that Norris stood up, Luccia's hand in his own, and pulled on Luccia in an effort to help her pull herself up and out of the small pool of water. As soon as Luccia got to her feet she brushed Norris aside and began to quickly head towards the door back into the Manor. "Wait!" Norris called to her just as she reached the door, so Luccia stopped and turned to face him. Norris, caught unaware, was stunned by what he saw next. Intending to ask Luccia where she was running to so quickly, the sight that instead greeted Norris was that of Luccia in her white lab coat, lit up by the bright moonlight, and soaked to the bone from her shoulders down. The curves of her body were now very clearly visible beneath her wet lab coat, as were her red panties, and her small, dark nipples were hard from the cool night air hitting the wet cloth atop her chest.

Luccia suddenly became aware of her exposure as she followed Norris' blank stares down to her breasts. She quickly drew her arms across her chest and scowled at Norris. Norris simply looked back up into her eyes and grinned as he slowly approached her. "Doctor," Norris said, "you are such an advocate of the beauty present in nature, yet you've never once mentioned yourself in all the times I've heard you speak." Luccia, speechless, could only stare into Norris' eyes as he approached her at a walk, silently smiling the entire way. Norris placed his hands on Luccia's shoulders as he spoke to her in a whisper, gradually leaning in closer as he did. "Surely you are a specimen to be lauded by the scientific community. Such splendour, such magnificence, such firmness—"

"Commander, you vould do vell not to comment on firmness." Norris chuckled as Luccia smirked at her own remark. As the two met in a slow yet passionate kiss, Luccia slowly opened the door behind her, until both of them could finally stumble through it, neither willing to end the heated embrace that threatened to send them tumbling down the stairs inside the door.

------------------------

As Norris fell back onto Riddel's soft bed, bouncing as he did so, Luccia's heavy lab coat hit a nearby wall with a wet smack. Norris struggled to remove his gloves and jacket as Luccia thrust one of her breasts into his waiting mouth. As Norris continued to struggle with his jacket, Luccia set to work undoing the many belts and buttons that held Norris' one-piece blue uniform on his body. Before long, Norris had escaped from his troublesome jacket, and as Luccia continued removing the rest of his uniform, Norris grasped Luccia's breasts tightly in his hands, squeezing on one while suckling on the other. Luccia squealed with delight every time she felt Norris timidly bite down upon her sensitive breasts, but was hard pressed to remove him from them even as she leaned well back in the hopes that her lover might relent in his onslaught.

When Luccia finally managed to step back fully from Norris, leaving him sitting on the bed, his body bare down to the waist, she abruptly and unceremoniously stripped her last remnants of clothing off before lunging at Norris like a ferocious beast and sending both of them tumbling back on the bed. Luccia, now straddling Norris' prone body, firmly grasped two clumps of the young man's bright blonde hair in her hands and yanked his face forward into her own. Luccia treated Norris' mouth as she would a cherished but abused possession, and as Norris frantically yanked the rest of his uniform down to his ankles Luccia finished working her way up Norris' body. Luccia tore Norris' face away from her own long enough for Norris to manage one gasp of breath before she pulled on his hair once more, planting his face firmly between her legs. As Luccia rocked back and forth atop Norris' face, Norris could feel his tongue gradually going numb from exhaustion.

As the numbness finished spreading to his lips, Norris felt Luccia's legs squeeze into his head, and his ears were so well shielded that he could barely here Luccia's sudden scream of ecstasy. Luccia, gasping for air, seated herself on Norris' chest and looked down into his face. It was then that she noticed Norris' glistening lips had curled themselves into a wicked grin. Norris gripped Luccia's hips firmly as he threw her sideways from his chest down to the bed, where she landed brusquely on her back. Luccia had time to do nothing more than smile at Norris' initiative before she felt her arms being suddenly pulled out to her sides. She could feel Norris' hands now, tightly wrapped around her wrists, and the young man shuffled into position even as he held Luccia's arms firmly down against the bed, though Luccia offered only a paltry, token struggle against his grasp.

No sooner had Norris begun thrusting his hips forward than he found himself fearful of any remaining occupants of the Manor. Certainly the way his efforts made the headboard of the bed bang out a steady rhythm against the wall behind it made it clear that the two of them were here. Norris, in an effort to try and dampen the distracting sound, let go of Luccia's wrists and grabbed onto the top of the bed's headboard. Norris then realised that, in his haste, he had forgotten to close the door behind him. He was now afraid of being found. All such distracting thoughts quickly faded, however, as Norris was spurred onwards by the sensation of Luccia's fingernails now digging into his back, driving him towards the brink. Using the leverage now provided by the headboard, Norris resumed his frantic motions. Even as Norris felt his climax was imminent, Luccia continued pushing him on ever faster, as if he were a machine to be sped up at the push of a button. Despite his best efforts, Norris could hold out no longer, and he collapsed forward into Luccia's welcoming bosom. Then, for a reason neither could fathom, Luccia began to laugh. Soon Norris was laughing along, unable to resist the infectious glee, until, without exchanging a word, both finally giggled themselves to sleep.

------------------------

So, with the sounds of the elements united, Serge was released from his role as Arbiter. The two worlds were re-woven into one, and all but Serge had had their memories ripped from them. His partner, Kid, had vanished, as had his other companions, scattered to their homes like seeds to the wind. Serge felt sad knowing that they would not remember what they did, for him and for the world, but he felt happy that someday, somewhere, he would meet them all again. Maybe he could remind them. Or maybe, they would just know.

Luccia squinted and drew her free hand up to her eyes as the light bore down upon her unsuspecting body. Even after rolling over in her bed, Luccia could still not escape the light that now permeated the room. Finally, as the curtains in the small, freshly painted room were drawn fully back, Luccia succumbed to the beckoning of the dawn and rose from the bed, dragging the sheets with her in an attempt to conceal her body from the room's male occupant, a mere shadow against the backdrop of the sunrise. "What's the matter, Luccia?" asked Norris. "Don't you remember promising to watch the sunrise with me?"

"Of course I do, I simply vish the sunrise vould not occur so early in the day." At this Norris laughed, stepping towards Luccia and out of the light as he did so.

"That's the beauty of watching the sunrise. It's so rare that anyone does, it's as if you're one of only a handful to have ever seen one. Besides, Porre is beautiful at this time of the day." Luccia and Norris then met in the middle of the room, embracing each other in a loving hug as they both turned their heads towards the window in order to watch the sunrise.

"Porre is beautiful at any time of the day, Norris, especially vhen viewed from a vindow such as ours. That is vhy ve purchased dis home."

"Yes, yes, I remember. Of course I remember. It was the same day I turned down that mission to El Nido. Best decision I've ever made." Luccia suddenly grabbed Norris' chin and jerked his head around to face her own.

"Correction," Luccia said, "second best." And with that, she kissed him.

Fin

Author's Note: Yeah, I originally thought I had it in me to do a few more chapters like this, but instead I found out that I just suck. Check back in a few years and maybe I'll have some new chapters up. Then again, maybe I won't.


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